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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29582784">Vengeance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaands/pseuds/Anaands'>Anaands</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>New China [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Last Ship (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action &amp; Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:09:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>44,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29582784</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anaands/pseuds/Anaands</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to New China - The Crew of the Nathan James deals with the Red-Rust and return of their beloved Captain. Sasha makes a difficult decision that alters the course of their trajectory for good. An alternate version of Season 4. Tomsha centric with appearances from our favorite characters.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tom Chandler/Sasha Cooper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>New China [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2173398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have a love-hate relationship with Season 4, overall, it's my least favorite season but there were some great moments from the crew. I didn't care for the wacky crazy doctor mental castration storyline. The Vellek's were a total drag and I never bought them as a realistic threat to a crew as skilled as the James'… Like Lucia and Giorgio really could have orchestrated so much chaos for them all. I think they missed a trick with the James/Sasha storyline that could have been more compelling and a more realistic to push her to the brink of breaking down. Also felt there were quite a few scenes missing in Sasha and Tom's relationship to explain how they decided to move forward with a fresh start.</p><p>Anyway, here is my version of Season 4, a continuation based in the same universe as my first story "New China." Originally posted Sept 2020 to FFnet. Reworked a little to improve now I've gotten back into the swing of things and cross-posting here. Though this can be read as a standalone, parts will be unclear without reading that first. – Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James Fletcher knew he was out of his league the second he'd seen them together in Greece. The way they moved together in battle was like a dance. The minute they'd all three been stood in the same room, James Fletcher recognized he was the third wheel, irrespective of their relationship. The caustic nature in which Tom Chandler had asked, <em>'who are you?'</em> not bothering to wait for his response before turning to the only person he seemed willing to listen to and demanding <em>'who is he?' </em>had more than set the tone.</p><p>He understood it very clearly now.</p><p>She was <em>in love</em> with Tom Chandler and probably always had been. Like puzzle pieces slotting into place, James put it together. Sasha Cooper had only briefly mentioned they dated. Long in the past, nothing too serious when they were young. Tom had been the last person left alive from her <em>before</em>. Naturally, James understood that it would be hard to lose your last human connection to the pre-plague world. And <em>that</em> was the reason the crew avoided the mention of Tom's name around her. Because she was heartbroken that her <em>friend, </em>and their brilliant leader, was likely dead.</p><p>Obviously, there'd been a lot more to it.</p><p>James felt deeply for her, they'd only been dating for four months, but his interest had been almost immediate. He was under no such illusion that she was in love with him, but he'd hoped that one day she might get there... had Chandler not come back. A possibility, that seemed entirely unlikely in the wake of his return. It became evident when he'd registered her barely controlled anger, the way she snapped at Chandler when he tried to take control, how they kept sharing looks—oblivious to everyone around them. Why Sasha had stared so intently at Chandler in the wardroom, just five minutes ago as they discussed potentially raiding Vellek's lab. So consumed she hadn't even noticed James observing them from the sidelines. But more than that was the softness in the Captain's eyes whenever he glanced when she wasn't watching. The regret.</p><p>Before, he'd felt like he was competing with a ghost. Now? He was competing with the man in the flesh. Never before had James seen her behave this way—like there was a side of her that was out of control. That there was actually someone on this Earth capable of unsettling her, able to rattle that carefully distant exterior.</p><p>"It's a <em>crazy </em>idea," Sasha said as they stood in the p-way.</p><p>"Tom Chandler didn't seem to think so," came his retort.</p><p>She blinked. Rapidly, clearly triggered by just the sound of his name. Looked away while her mouth opened as if to say something before settling on silence instead. The whites of her eyes started to turn distinctly bloodshot, it looked like she was about to <em>cry</em>. James was taken aback, he only knew her to be collected and controlled at all times. Almost clinically devoid of deeper emotion.</p><p>"I can't imagine what you're feeling right now, seeing him after all this time," he sympathized, attempting to offer comfort.</p><p>Sasha looked down and shook her head, re-enforcing that wall that she always kept up. "What I'm <em>feeling </em>is that we have the seeds. We just need to get them to Naples. Then if it comes to it, we'll deal with mad Doctor Vellek… on our terms." It was clear that the subject was closed. She attempted a smile at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm going to get a coffee," she said, giving no invitation to join. James sighed and watched her go.</p><p>It was a move made without thinking. A mistake. He was still in there, <em>of course, </em>because he had nowhere else to go until they made up a room. Her face fell, and her nostrils flared slightly as their eyes collided. They stood in awkward frozen silence. Tom could feel the heat coming steadily from her in waves. Visible anger now focused solely in his direction, and his heart sank. Slowly Tom lowered his cup to the table, fingers splayed around the rim evenly before clearing his throat. This was a better time than any to rip the Band-Aid off. Above all else, this was still a Destroyer, and they were in the thick of a mission. This needed to be addressed before it affected the crew.</p><p>"Are we gonna talk about it?" he questioned hesitantly, arms folding cautiously across his chest while he propped up against the wall. Sasha hovered in the room's threshold, hand still on the door handle, considering him for long enough that he wondered if she somehow hadn't heard.</p><p>"About what?" she challenged, pursing her lips into a thin grim line as she fixed him with an unforgivingly cold stare. Tom swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up and down prominently.</p><p>"You're upset with me…" he responded softly.</p><p>Her lips twitched, a small <em>'hm'</em> sound reaching his ears, <em>'upset'</em> as he'd put it didn't even <em>begin</em> to express what she felt. Her head tilted left venom swirling, before stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind her.</p><p>That was a 'yes' then.</p><p>"Where would you like me to start?" she began sarcastically, rhetorical, of course—his gut filled with dread at the words to follow. "The part where you slept with me, kissed me, and then walked off the ship? Or the part where you dropped off the face of the planet for sixteen months?" she spat, appalled that her eyes were already starting to water, and her voice had wavered, becoming tight against her will. Betraying the level of pain she was attempting to hide.</p><p>Tom's lips parted, and he inhaled slowly, shame washing over his features, and she was satisfied that her words appeared to hurt. <em>Good.</em></p><p>"<em>Sasha</em>—<em>" </em>it sounded like a plea, and she shook her head sharply.</p><p>"Don't you dare," she warned, biting out the words between clenched teeth.</p><p>He hung his head then, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he tried to figure out how to make this right… Tom knew he'd hurt her, would be stupid not to realize that, but he didn't think it had been this much. The Sasha he knew had barely shed a tear when she'd broken his heart, and now she was standing before him about to openly cry, and deep in his soul, the hollow pit opened. In all their years, he'd never actually seen it. Never seen Sasha Cooper cry, and the knowledge that he was about to see it happen because of him, hurt more than he could describe.</p><p>"Not one-word, Tom! Not a single fucking thing for <em>sixteen months.</em> I get that you needed to leave, but to completely cut me off?" she gestured aggressively between them, "did I miss something here!?" Tom stood speechless, sheepish, his brows set in a deep furrow of regret and apology. "I thought you were <em>dead</em>. We looked for you and the kids for six months before we gave up. We even stopped by your old house, and it was trashed!" News to him, his house had been fine when he'd picked up some belongings before escaping to Greece.</p><p>"Do you not realize how much these people <em>love </em>you?" she choked on the word love, voice breaking, "how much <em>I </em>love you?" she rasped… the fight suddenly vanishing as quickly as it had come—replaced instead with a heavy sadness that seeped through his bones as it radiated from her. Thick, heavy tears spilled down her cheeks silently. Burned his insides. Made it hard for him to breathe.</p><p>Tom's eyes faltered and he let his arms fall to his sides, pushing himself away from the wall slowly—she backed away, the action alone like a sucker punch to the gut. His heart wrenched in his chest.</p><p>He saw it now.</p><p>If he were honest, he'd known all along, and it was the reason he'd never let go. Rather accepted that they were not meant to be, and he would love her from afar. Just as he'd done in the past. Used their history as a way to justify his choice and convince himself that he didn't need to worry about her because she'd move on. She'd be fine. Sasha <em>always</em> ended up fine. Tom recognized it for what it was now—an excuse—something to make him feel better about breaking her heart. He was a coward, and he owed her an explanation at the very least, though he was sure it would fall completely flat. Slowly Tom shook his head, his eyes glassy.</p><p>"I'm so sorry..." <em>for everything</em>. It wasn't enough, he knew that, but where else could he start?</p><p>She closed her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, wiping furiously at the tears that stubbornly crept through her lashes. At the snot that was dripping from her nose. Hadn't cried a single day since he'd left, too broken to do it. And now? She couldn't stop. It was like he'd shocked life back into her.</p><p>"I was lost, Sash—I <em>am </em>lost," he started, "every time I thought about reaching out, I kept thinking about who would die next." He tried to explain it, but formulating the issue was complex when he didn't even understand it himself. "I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't keep being responsible for sending people to their deaths. I sent you into the White House with no back up against twenty-plus men!" he hissed. "I saw the hole in your vest Sasha—two inches higher, and you'd be dead. I would have killed <em>you</em>." There was pain in his expression, in his voice.</p><p>"The longer it went, the more I was convinced I'd call, and someone would tell me that you, or Mike or Green or Burk were dead… and I wasn't there with you. <em>I left,</em>" he tried, imploring her to understand what he was failing to explain. Sasha's eyes fell to the floor, remembering their last conversation, how this sounded exactly the same. "I couldn't stay and keep ordering you to court death."</p><p>She was regarding him, grinding her teeth to keep from crying more. He was still a mess, that much she could tell. "But I'm not dead, Tom. I'm here. I've been here the whole time. We could have helped you! I would have gone with you—if you'd asked!" her voice was hoarse.</p><p>"I already tried that once!" he fired back, the moment it slipped out, he regretted it immensely. Sasha visibly recoiled, mouth hanging agape slightly in shock.</p><p>"Wow," she breathed, unprepared for how much it hurt. Didn't think they were going there, but apparently—they were. "So I guess we're even then? You got your payback?" she sneered, darkness in her eyes, and a hint of hatred he'd never seen directed toward him before. Nausea rolled in his gut as her lips trembled. Her brows contorting as the spike of fire made way for the horrible cold pain that stung through her entire body. Sasha watched him slump over with a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Fists on the table between them to hold himself up and head hanging in shame again.</p><p>"You didn't deserve that. I shouldn't have said it," he continued. "I'm sorry, Sasha. <em>I'm sorry.</em>" Implored her to believe him with those eyes that had ruled her heart for most of her life. She sniffed, more tears pouring down her cheeks that she'd given up on trying to wipe away. Didn't know what to say in response anymore. They'd hit rock bottom a few times throughout their lives—but this certainly felt like the worst. To know that he'd been in Greece, the entire time, living his life and he hadn't cared enough to even tell them he was okay, <em>burned</em>.</p><p>"I just wanted peace," he added weakly, a distinct air of hopelessness permeating the words.</p><p>
  <em>Peace.</em>
</p><p>Sasha wanted to scoff but refrained, settled for biting down on a nerve in an effort to distract from her pain.</p><p>Recovering himself slightly, Tom stood again. Looked like he'd just gone for twelve rounds, and it made her soul cry because this man was <em>far </em>from the Tom Chandler she knew. They regarded each other for several long moments, neither one having the courage to say more. She was still the most beautiful thing he'd seen and he felt his bones ache with sorrow. Sasha was stronger than him—always had been, and he'd managed to reduce her to this.</p><p>He hated himself. He did this to her.</p><p>"How can I fix this?" he spoke with humility, voice strangled. No attempt given to hide the moisture in his own eyes, and it almost broke her again. The tears she'd thought under control came surging back with a force that nearly overwhelmed her. Raised her chin to the ceiling slightly as she gasped softly for air, trying to hold the sob from escaping. So tired of her treacherous heart for loving him so completely and endlessly.</p><p>"I don't know if you can," an honest admission that she struggled out. There was no anger left, just loss and a decade of regret that lay between them. Tom sniffed and swallowed, his throat screaming from holding it back. Unable to find his voice, he simply nodded, accepting defeat, and Sasha used the opportunity to leave.</p><p>He stood there for a long time after she left—had no place to go, no one to see, no one wanted him here.</p><p>
  <em>He hated himself.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"She hates me," he rasped. Tom was sitting on the sofa of Mike's cabin, watching as he rummaged through his draws, intently looking for something. Doc Rios had just discharged him from the med bay.</p><p>"She's hurt." Mike corrected. "You broke her heart."</p><p>Tom sighed heavily, placing his head in his hands and running them with frustration through his hair. He looked like shit. Mike had never seen him so scruffy and disheveled. Never seen his hair this long and a full-faced beard. He didn't want to see his friend this way, it hurt knowing just how far he'd fallen from grace.</p><p>"I slept with her, Mike," he confessed. "On the way back from Asia." Tom stared blankly at the wall behind him.</p><p>Mike paused, his eyebrows rising in surprise. <em>This</em> was new information, and it bought clarity to just how badly his friend had fucked up. Whatever hell Sasha was currently giving him, he deserved - of that he was sure.</p><p>"You know, sixteen months, Tom. I was starting to think you were dead."</p><p>He'd heard that before, she'd said it herself. "Part of me was," he said despondently. "I didn't know how to call," he confessed, voice sounding pained. "I know I should have reached out, but every time I tried, I just kept thinking you'd all be better off without me. The longer it went, the easier it was to convince myself that you'd forgotten about me... moved on," he tried. Tom could see now how wrong he had been.</p><p>Mike's expression turned somber, an inkling of understanding making its way through the hurt and feelings of abandonment. He knew something of this, had lost plenty of friends to it in the past. That vicious cycle of self-loathing and apathy. Depression. "Still fighting that battle?"</p><p>Tom looked away, staring absently at the wall behind him. "I saw a side of me, Mike... I thought I'd put it away, but it came back again in Greece. Vengeful, angry, and out of control. I didn't like it." He sounded tired, ashamed... <em>lost</em>.</p><p>"Welcome to the Human race," Mike answered simply and Tom made an expression, <em>touché. </em>"You know, when I was dosed..." Mike pushed away from the desk, coming instead to sit in the chair in front of his friend. "It wasn't just my family that I saw. You were there too," he explained, pausing to collect himself, vivid memories of his Son's face flashing before his eyes painfully. "They're gone again but we're still here. You and me. That's gotta be worth something." Mike made a face, one of confusion. Tom looked perplexed. "You are here... right?" Mike put on a show as if he were looking for a ghost in a room, enjoying the two seconds in which Tom brought it. Tom's lips quirked, a grin crossed his face, and he chuckled. That was a good one, no doubt. Mike raised his head in acknowledgment at him, glad that they could at least laugh. The rest would work itself out. He had faith.</p><p>"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Mike." Tom stood and headed toward the door, pausing before he walked out. "Ship needs her captain."</p><p>Mike almost thought better of it, but something about the heaviness in Tom's expression still compelled him to. "Tom—" he turned back towards Mike, eyebrows raised in question. "She'll come around. Just give her time."</p><p>Just like that, the emotion came rushing back, the shame, the guilt. That thing he'd said to her that he shouldn't have. Tom looked at the floor and then back at him, nodding once in acknowledgment, and left the room.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mike was resting on the sofa, feet up under a blanket, reading a book when he heard a soft knock on his door. Various crew members had been trickling in and out to see him; share their well wishes. It meant a lot to him. This was his family now, and he felt damn lucky to have this many people that cared for him.</p><p>"Come in," he called. The door opened to reveal Sasha. She smiled when she entered—glad to see him up and looking so well compared to the last time she'd been with him. She walked over and perched herself against the desk exactly where he'd been when Tom had visited just a few hours ago.</p><p>"I heard you were up," she said in greeting, crossing her arms comfortably in front of her. "You're looking much better, how are you feeling?" Mike folded the corner on the page and put his book down, scooting up and putting his legs down, so he was seated facing her.</p><p>"I'd be a lot better if Doc hadn't stashed my cigars," he said seriously—deadpan.</p><p>She laughed nodding, "I heard you might have been looking for those…" she was smirking at him.</p><p>"Is that right? I heard you're supposed to be intelligence—any chance you can find them for me?" he questioned, pulling a funny face—she chuckled softly again because he knew he was only half-joking.</p><p>"Not a chance," she shot back, shaking her head. Mike regarded her then. It looked like she'd been crying—obviously, they'd talked then. Tom's earlier visit and her appearance now confirmed it. He decided to be bold and address the elephant in the room.</p><p>"He loves you, you know," he offered.</p><p>Sasha turned her head sharply at him. That was not what she expected, and not really what she wanted to hear. She pursed her lips. "Well, he has a funny way of showing it." Words tasting bitter and sarcastic as they came out.</p><p>"I know. Give him time... he means well—blames himself for a lot, including this," he elaborated, nodding his head slightly towards her to make sure she understood what '<em>this' </em>was. Her. The agony she'd been in since he'd left. Sasha scoffed, of course he did. Tom was his own worst enemy, but at least on this one, he was right. It <em>was</em> his fault she was heartbroken. <em>He left.</em></p><p>"I gave him more than a year Mike. To reach out. I know we stopped looking six months in, but part of me still hoped," she admitted, shoulders slumping in shame slightly at how weak she was when it came to him. How her heart simply refused to let go of the idea of Tom Chandler, became fixated on the belief that there was no one else on the planet meant for her except him. Not truly.</p><p>"I did too," he confessed.</p><p>"I just don't understand it. How you can just—walk away entirely and not even reach out? Not even to see if we're okay!?" Sasha elaborated, her expression twisted somewhere between disgust and confusion. She was loathe to admit it, but that's all she'd done for the past three hours since they'd spoken. Hidden away in a bolt hole while trying to comprehend his failure to communicate. How to reconcile the man she knew him to be—reliable, steadfast, c<em>aring</em>—with the man who'd refused to see Kathleen. To understand how he of all people had been so paralyzed by self-loathing that it had been simpler to just try and forget entirely. To act like the Nathan James, his crew, like <em>she</em> didn't exist.</p><p>"Have you ever been depressed?" Mike asked then, she made a face of confusion and almost defensiveness. Apparently, suddenly he'd forgotten the past sixteen-months… Weren't they all depressed at this point? "I mean before," he clarified.</p><p>Sasha pondered it for a time and shook her head. No. She couldn't honestly say that she had. Not in the classic sense. She'd had ups and downs like everyone else—that was life, but nothing that made her shut down and do a complete 180 interpersonally. Not like Tom had.</p><p>"My wife Christine suffered from it. I tried my best to understand, but the way she explained it to me - it was like, the simplest task, something so normal, like getting up to eat food seemed pointless to her. Filled her with so much dread that some days she just couldn't get out of bed, and the longer she put things off, the more worthless she felt, and the more pointless everything got," he started. Sasha furrowed her eyebrows in empathy. "Sometimes I would get so angry. I'd come home late, and the kids hadn't even eaten yet... or I'd get a call from the school that she'd forgotten to pick them up." Mike paused for a moment. Clearly battling within himself.</p><p>"I kept thinking, how can you not take care of your own kids, you know? Do you not love them enough?" he asked rhetorically. It made him ashamed to say. That he'd been less than supportive to his own wife that way. "Anyway, we went to counseling - and I finally understood that it wasn't that she didn't love them. It was that she loved them so much, and felt like such a failure, that she thought they'd be better off without her," he finished. Looking over at Sasha, hoping she understood what he was trying to say.</p><p>Sasha stared at him for a long moment. Taken aback by his profound honesty towards her. She reached out and squeezed his hand—words feeling inadequate. "I'm sorry," she offered.</p><p>He shrugged it off—his way of dealing with the emotions. His way of coping. Moving forward with no closure and no hope. "Eh, we all have a history, right?" he deflected. "Anyway, my point is—you <em>can't </em>understand it, because it's not rational. And that's exactly why it's so hard to break," he finished.</p><p>Her expression changed. Mike constantly surprised her. He was insightful, respectful, kind, but his level of loyalty humbled her most of all. The endless positivity and forgiveness he had. Just like that—one conversation and suddenly she felt lighter than she had in months. Like he turned on a light. She shook her head from side to side in bemusement—not the reaction he'd expected. He looked puzzled, canting his head slightly in a silent question. <em>What was so funny?</em></p><p>"You're a good friend, you know that?" she said. Reached over one more time and squeezed his hand again. A fond gesture that she hoped communicated how much she appreciated his support and the bond they'd developed. "I'm glad you're feeling better," she said, standing and turning to exit the room.</p><p>Sasha paused when she reached the door and turned back towards him. "Mike—"</p><p>He raised his head, acknowledging her.</p><p>"Thank you," she said sincerely and left.</p><p>He smiled. Those two were so alike. He felt better than he had in months—they'd work it out, all of them. The crew, the ship—Tom, his dream team was coming back. Mike picked the book up again and resumed the chapter.</p><p>Sasha was still smiling softly to herself as she headed to the wardroom for an update on the mission. Somehow what Mike had said made sense, and the knot of chronic hurt in her heart loosened a fraction. It felt different to have an answer she might be able to accept – it felt somewhat like progress.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom was sitting on the edge of the bed, uniform laid out before him. He'd been humbled significantly since returning to his ship. Seeing them now, the resentment… he couldn't blame them. When he put himself in their shoes, he'd feel exactly the same. Self-reflection was a hard pill to swallow after sixteen-months of running away.</p><p><em>'This is where you belong.'</em> Russ had told him. Despite it all still believing with that unwavering faith in him as their leader. Tom felt he surely didn't deserve it. '<em>Do you not realize how much these people love you, how much I love you.'</em></p><p>It was the slap in the face Tom needed. He picked up the re-enlistment orders and signed his name definitively.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Do you think I was too hard on him?" Meylan asked curiously, closing up files after another briefing in which they confirmed the plan. <em>Tom's plan. </em>It was only he and Sasha left in the wardroom. She was busy pouring over intel still. Putting her pen down, Sasha looked up.</p><p>"No," she said simply, pausing for a moment before adding, "I think you said exactly what he needed to be told."</p><p>Meylan considered her for a moment. Over the past sixteen-months, his opinion of her had changed. He respected her advice, she was invaluable to their team, to the mission. Though not always conventional in her approach—she got the job done, and she did it well. He realized now that she wasn't a blind follower as he'd initially thought. Sasha was very much in control of every choice she made and every path she chose to follow.</p><p>"I appreciate that," he said. "Do you think he'll come around?"</p><p>She looked away from him them, off into the distance before her. Saddened her to think that she'd reached the point where her absolute faith in Tom could be shaken this much, to the point that she had to question his ability for commitment. "I honestly don't know," she responded, some of that heaviness creeping back into her tone. Meylan made an expression of acknowledgment and picked up the file.</p><p>"You'll brief me if you find something?" he knew she would, but he wanted to change the subject. Say something more positive, more definitive before returning to the helm.</p><p>"Of course," she confirmed. Nodding once before picking up the pen and looking back at her papers.</p><p>As soon the door closed Sasha let the pen drop. Leaning back in her chair with an exhausted sigh. As if praying for strength, she closed her eyes. Didn't know if she had any more left to give because she knew she was about to go and see Tom. Hated herself for it. Hated her heart. Hated how it refused to let go and move on no matter how hard she tried to force it to. How hard she tried to ignore.</p><p>She knew it.</p><p>Just couldn't help herself.</p><p>She needed to know.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tom had just finished shaving when he heard a knock on his door.</p><p>"Come in," he called. His face faltered, betraying the shock as soon as he realized who it was. She was the last person he expected to visit him, given how poorly their previous conversation had gone. Sasha paused for a moment, her eyes taking it in. The uniform, his re-enlistment papers on the bed. Signed.</p><p>Her heart had already started hammering away in her chest. Stepping in she closed the door behind her. "So, you're back then?" an observation as much as a question, moving farther from him. Placing her hands in her pockets, trying to keep herself together. </p><p>
  <em>He's back. He's staying. He's not gone.</em>
</p><p>Tom watched her as she walked around him, leaning back against the sink. "A good friend once told me it was my destiny. And he's Greek so he'd know,"</p><p>"If I recall my history, there was another Greek, who said a man's character determines his destiny." She paused. "You chose this."</p><p>He pushed himself away from the sink, grabbing his jacket from the bed. "I just need to see this through," he didn't know why, but he wanted to deflect. Wasn't so sure he <em>would</em> have chosen had they not made him see sense. It didn't feel right to claim this victory as his own.</p><p>She let the subject drop. "Well, if it's a fight you're looking for, you just might get it. We're staying put in the Med. We're gonna try to scramble some assets in the Middle East. In the meantime, I'm looking for a safe haven where we can drop off the refugees. Meylan made the recommendation to the CIC, who concurred," she explained.</p><p>"And Vellek?" </p><p>Sasha made an expression like he'd asked exactly what she'd expected him to. So, they still had that then at least. "Once the seeds are safely en route, he becomes the mission." Another look, one that silently communicated the irony of the situation. </p><p>"Sounds like a plan." A small smirk.</p><p>"It was your plan." Another look, something familiar—<em>how it used to be</em>, she thought.</p><p>"Meylan's his own man." Tom paused, finished with putting on the jacket. "How do I look?" he asked, and she couldn't quite put her finger on why, but it made her soften. Chipped away at the wall she was miserably failing to keep up. He was still a little uncertain—still felt like an imposter in his own life. On his own ship, she realized. She swallowed and walked closer to him, the realization making her more emotional than she wanted to admit. Sasha smoothed the fabric on his right shoulder—though it was already perfectly pressed. <em>She knew that.</em> Ran her hands down the fabric of his sleeves, straightened the cuffs. Fingers brushing the skin of his hands ever so slightly—aware of his eyes on her the entire time.</p><p>Aware of the way her heart was beating double-time, begging her to admit that the oppressive weight of his absence had been lifted, and though she was hurt—he was the only one who could fix it. Telling her to at least let him try. She made eye contact with him, the ghost of a smile on her lips and unmistakable warmth in her expression, the kind she only had ever directed towards him.</p><p>"Better." </p><p>His heart soared, recognizing it for what it was—an olive branch. A path back into her good graces. He'd take whatever he could get. Inhaling softly, she broke the spell. Stepped around him, needing to leave because she was already feeling too much—<em>again—</em>less than five minutes spent in his presence. Who the hell was she kidding? She'd never be done with him, not until she was dead.</p><p>"Still need a haircut." She couldn't let him feel too good about himself. </p><p>Tom smirked the second she wasn't facing him, turning to watch her leave. He'd missed her so much, more than she would realize or even believe. She hesitated before she left, stopping to regard him one more time.</p><p>"All that time you were away…" she started, her expression turning a little sad. "you find the peace you were looking for?" </p><p>
  <em>Was it worth it?</em>
</p><p>Tom thought for a second.</p><p>"There were moments," he answered.</p><p>
  <em>Not entirely. </em>
</p><p>"Moments?" she repeated, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side. "Sounds nice." A nonchalant reply. Forced herself to leave quickly after she said it because she needed to put distance between them. It had always been all too easy to get sucked back into his gravitas.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>She wasn't prepared for what hit her when she heard his voice over the coms.</p><p>
  <em>"I, Thomas W. Chandler, having been appointed an officer in the Navy of the United States of America, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States…"</em>
</p><p>She paused as she descended the stairs in the p-way—caught on her way to the mess. It reminded her so much of the feeling she'd had as she listened to him address Meylan all those months ago. When she'd stood beside him, following him down the path of no return, the path of mutiny.</p><p>She felt it.</p><p>
  <em>"…against all enemies, foreign or domestic. That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same. And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter. So, help me, God."</em>
</p><p>Her lips parted slightly as she took shallow breaths, heart-swelling in her chest—like she was seeing colors for the first time.</p><p>She felt it.</p><p>
  <em>Hope.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Dream Team was back together. Mike clapped his hands enthusiastically, a pep in his step like he hadn't felt in more than a year as he walked through the ship's halls to grab breakfast. Today was his first day back. He was raring to go, they had the seeds, a mission, and their long-lost Captain. <em>Just like old times</em>, he thought when he stepped into the wardroom—old times, with a few new faces, of course. Tom was an early bird, always had been. Was already there enjoying his first cup of coffee, reading the ship's logs, getting caught up to speed on all he'd missed for an hour at least before anyone else came in.</p><p>The natural order of things was such, Mike and Maylen would always arrive second—depending on who had the helm for the morning shift. Approximately fifteen minutes after that, Jeter would enter having completed his rounds, and Sasha would usually follow ten to twenty minutes after that. But now there was Fletcher, this morning he'd slipped in three minutes before Sasha arrived.</p><p>"Good Morning," James greeted as he stepped into the room. Tom nodded back at him politely, peering up from the files.</p><p>"Morning," he concurred. Watching as James made his way over to the coffee station—two cups, not one, confirming Tom's suspicions from the Helo bay.<em> They were together</em>. Tom watched unnoticed as Fletcher poured both, adding a healthy amount of milk to his own, and the same to hers... two sugars in both. Apparently, Mr. Fletcher still didn't know how she liked her coffee.</p><p>
  <em>Interesting.</em>
</p><p>Sasha walked in and Tom glanced at his watch, <em>right on schedule</em>. Tom went back to pretending to look at the files but he was distracted. Even more so when she sat down quietly on the opposite side— no longer next to him as she had in the past. It was petty, Tom shouldn't care, had no one to blame but himself, yet still it stung and he hadn't expected it not to.</p><p>"Thank you," Sasha said, accepting the coffee from James who turned and sat beside her. Sasha took a sip, and Tom had to stop himself from smirking when he saw the way her nose wrinkled. Usually, she beat James to breakfast, made her own drink, but recent events had drained her, and she needed the extra thirty minutes of sleep she'd taken this morning.</p><p>Tom stood intending to refill. How convenient that the machine was right behind them. When he was done, he picked up a pack of sugar and wordlessly deposited it beside Sasha's hand as he passed. She looked at it from the corner of her eye and worked hard to control her face, ultimately failing to suppress the smirk despite her best efforts. Of course, he noticed, <em>of course</em>, he'd been watching—he always did.</p><p>She could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks as Tom settled himself in the chair opposite her again, extremely precisely. Glanced up at him subtly, and he returned the gesture. Eyes colliding for seconds that seemed to stretch. Sasha picked up the packet of sugar and poured it into her drink as she watched the knowing gleam creep into that blue. Willed her heart to stop reacting to him. <em>Damn him for knowing her so well.</em></p><p>She heard Mike snort and snapped her head to him sharply. He coughed quickly and tried to pass it off, to hide the fact that he was enjoying this little exchange all at the expense of Fletcher.</p><p><em>Damn both of them. </em>She felt terrible for James, but god, it felt <em>so</em> good to be back. To have the three of them all gathered together—to have their missing limb sewn back. On his part, James watched the entire exchange with utter bewilderment, looked over at Sasha who was still trying not to smile, but failing. Unable to hide the softness in her expression and Chandler not bothering to hide the love in his.</p><p><em>Well,</em> he thought, <em>at least she'll have someone to lean on when she finds out.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In some ways, it was like he'd never left. Like his absence had merely been an extended bad dream. It was surreal. The difference in the crew's morale palpable—it was like they had been lifted. They'd been sailing with their anchor dragging behind them for<em> so</em> long, and now it had finally broken free. They were soaring again.</p><p>It scared her just how easy it was to fall right back into their old routine. Like riding a bike after a long time, a little shaky at first, but as the kinks worked themselves out—familiar. <em>Good</em>. When they worked together in the wardroom, him creating contingencies and strategizing, her providing him the intel and background he needed to consider every angle. Somehow Sasha had almost forgotten how much she loved Tom's mind—the way he knew without explanation what she was saying and where she was headed concerning the details. Forgotten how easy it could be, and she wondered if perhaps she'd just gotten so used to struggling that easy hadn't seemed possible anymore.</p><p>How some mornings she'd come in, and if James wouldn't see, her coffee was waiting for her again. Prepared by him to perfection—<em>their little secret. </em>It was ridiculous, couldn't fathom how she kept entrapping herself in everything that he was. Everything he could be. Back then, it had been other things, new pens for her to try—she had a thing about stationary. A post-it hidden between the pages of an essay he'd graded. Chocolate snuck into her backpack when she wasn't looking. Just little things to let her know that he was thinking of her, and he cared. The twinkle of happiness in his eyes whenever she discovered what he'd left her warming her soul every time.</p><p>Still—she needed to keep her distance, kept telling herself she was already soaking herself in gasoline and dancing around flames, literally, asking to get burned. So why the hell couldn't she just stay away from him? Why was she still playing this game with him almost twenty years later.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They were descending the stairs in the p-way. "Funny. You're back on the ship. Now I'm the one leaving." Sasha said to him—learned that morning that she'd personally escort the seeds back to the States while they stayed behind to capture Vellek.</p><p>"Destiny has other plans for us," he answered, groaning slightly in the tight space as his back protested. Sitting on his ass for the past year hadn't served him well. Not what she'd expected him to say, <em>'us'</em>. Like he'd already mentally decided that it was only a matter of time until there was an <em>'us'</em> again. The way he said it and his reaction in the wardroom earlier, like none of this was news to him, confirmed her suspicions. He'd recommended she be the one to escort the seeds back. Recommended or rather made it happen. They were still playing that game then – the one where he needed to keep her as safe as possible.</p><p>"At least I'll have plenty of time to get better acquainted with <em>Commander Fletcher.</em>" Another shock. He was bold today, she thought.</p><p>Sasha made a face, unsure of where this conversation was heading. Until now, he'd never mentioned it, never asked. It's not that she was hiding it from him, just… not advertising it either. Surely, he didn't expect her to just wait for him indefinitely, and she didn't know whether to engage or not.</p><p>"I'll bet," she answered cautiously, unable to hide the fact that she had a sneaking suspicion he didn't much like the guy. Sasha saw him hesitate, waiting for a crewmember to pass them before he pressed on.</p><p>"How much you tell him? About us?" he asked quietly. There it was again, that word, 'us'.</p><p>"Fletcher?" she asked, surprised. Tom raised his head a fraction in confirmation.</p><p>The squint communicated her confusion at the direction this conversation had taken. "Only the important stuff. The rest he can figure out by himself," she answered honestly. Couldn't tell by his expression if that's what he wanted to hear, but suddenly it dawned on her. The confusion morphed into a knowing look, softer than intended as she turned her head to the side.</p><p>"Tom Chandler, are you <em>jealous</em>?" she asked, somewhere between teasing and fondness in her tone; just couldn't help herself. Tom just kept hammering away and worming his way back in every chance he got. Sasha cared about James, he was kind and respectful and had never done anything wrong – but he didn't even <em>begin</em> to scratch the surface compared to them. Surely Tom knew that. The whole crew knew it. Hell, she was pretty sure even James had figured it out too. She wouldn't even look twice at him had Tom not left her. If tomorrow she had to choose between saving him or James Fletcher—well, it wasn't even a choice.</p><p>Tom made a face of repulsion at her suggestion, and she shook her head, smiling. <em>No</em>, jealous wasn't the word. He'd done this to himself. He'd let her go, and he never should have. Regret was a more apt description for what he felt about their… companionship. It overcame him in that moment. Sunk in when he saw the knowing look and hint of nostalgia in her eyes. A heaviness settled in his chest because all he wanted to do was tell her how much he loved her. How much he missed her. That he'd thought about her every day for sixteen months. Find a way to convince her that she meant the world to him and always had, despite how badly he'd fucked up.</p><p>"Speak of the devil," she warned, raising her eyebrows. Tom turned a little too quickly and saw James appear from the other p-way.</p><p>"I'll leave you to it," he said. She nodded at him and watched him go.</p><p>James stopped in front of her, confusion evident as he watched the way Sasha blushed. How looked like she was trying to stop herself from laughing… or <em>giggling</em>. He furrowed his eyebrows. "Everything all alright?" he asked.</p><p>She tried to collect herself, to get the stupid grin off her face. "Yeah. Perfect."</p><p>He let it go.</p><p>There was no use competing or getting jealous—not when he was about to betray her. Not when he'd just communicated with Lucia on the Greek warship and given up their plan. She'd never forgive him for this… all he could do was hope that she'd understand. He was simply following orders. When she'd finally agreed to a lunch with him, he'd known that this would never be permanent. He was sure their entanglement would end, and they'd part ways at the end of their mission with fond memories, and that's it. What he hadn't planned on was falling in love with her and now needing to betray her for his country. It really was for the best that Tom had come back. He took comfort in the knowledge that there'd be someone there to help her pick up the pieces.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Don't!" Sasha yelled, hand flexing on the gun.</p><p>James stared back at her; the moment slowed down. The seeds in his hands, the same hands that she'd let roam her body. She felt sick to her stomach, her insides were rolling. Her gut-clenching uncomfortably as the weight of his betrayal set in. As what she was about to do overcame her. She saw the very second that he made the decision, and in a split second, she made hers.</p><p>Her finger flexed over the trigger.</p><p>
  <em>Bang.</em>
</p><p>1... 2...</p><p>His body crumpled to the floor. She stood unmoving as she watched the seeds roll out of his hand and towards her with the ship's list. Could hear the blood pumping through her veins.</p><p>
  <em>Thump, thump, thump.</em>
</p><p>The only sound.</p><p>A metronome.</p><p>No longer could she hear the howling winds or crashing waves as the Nathan James bore the brunt of the vicious storm cycle. Didn't hear as Tom approached behind her, cautiously. Barely registered as Green, Burk, and Slattery all arrived on deck. As Green went over to check the body for a pulse. <em>No need to do that,</em> she thought. She knew she'd executed a kill shot. That's what she was trained to do.</p><p>
  <em>"Sasha."</em>
</p><p>She barely heard him.</p><p>Tom stood beside her, taking in the scene before him. Her lips were pressed in a firm line, white from the pressure she was exerting on them. Her skin was pale, shivering from the cold... or from shock, he couldn't quite tell. The gun was still aimed directly at the spot where James had been, held in unsteady trembling hands, finger still in the trigger well, safety off. Tom motioned to Green to get clear of her aim, and reached out slowly to take it once Green was safe.</p><p>"It's okay," he said, echoing her words from before. Placed his hands over hers which elicited a startled blink and recoil as if she'd been shocked into life again. Sasha glanced at him, sound rushing back as if sped up, then down at James' body. Transfixed by the ugly red that was now washing steadily toward their feet, black like tar in the night.</p><p>"Look at me."</p><p>Drawn back by the simple command. He was calm. Patient, and calm. Sasha liked calm. The grip on her gun loosened and she finally allowed Tom to take it. Quickly, he flipped the safety and passed it to Burk before returning his full attention to her.</p><p>"Let's get you out of the cold," he coaxed by way of a gentle hand. Sasha didn't resist him as he placed his arm around her to force her to move. There was a hand holding her upper bicep as he tucked her into his side. As he directed them away from what she'd just done. Sasha was numb. Right now, she needed privacy and space. Tom knew her, this was a ticking time bomb, and he knew the last thing that she would want is for anyone to see. Especially after she'd just been so betrayed by James, knew she was already blaming herself for not seeing it coming. The thought of Fletcher made Tom's blood boil, rage pulsating through his veins until he could hear it rush through his ears. Yet more guilt to add to his overstuffed plate. He never should have left. This wouldn't be happening if he'd stayed like she'd told him to. He didn't want this for her. He should have protected her from this, he should have been faster, and he should have been the one to take that shot.</p><p>He'd rather she hated him than herself.</p><p>Sasha vaguely recognized that Tom was leading them towards his Stateroom, for which she was thankful because it would at least be private. Though, she really didn't want him to see her this way either. He opened the door and ushered her in, closing the hatch behind him quickly and shrugging off his soaking wet jacket.</p><p>"We need to get you dry," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for discussion. It was firm but loving. She could become hypothermic, and she was shivering uncontrollably at this point. Sasha attempted to pull the zipper down on her jacket, but her stiff, frozen fingers weren't complying. Tom reached over and did it for her, helping her pull her arms out. Next, he removed her shoes and wet socks while she steadied herself with hands on his shoulders. Then pulled the long sleeve over her head, the thin, sweat-wicking fabric clinging tightly to her damp skin. Grabbed a standard-issue towel from his locker and wrapped it around her torso to cover her up. She fiddled with her belt buckle and managed to unzip her jeans, shimmying out of them until all of her wet clothes lay in a pile upon the floor.</p><p>She was barely aware when he came back with the clothes he'd bought with him. Black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and pair of thick, standard-issue socks for her to wear until he was placing those socks on her fridged feet and pulling her arms through the soft fabric of his shirt. Sasha let the towel fall, shirt skimming her upper thighs. Let him help her step through his sweatpants that swum on her frame. Far too big and too long. Once she was dressed, Tom gently guided her towards his bed, pulling the duvet up and wrapping it around her to keep her warm. Sasha leaned despondently against the wall with legs outstretched and her feet dangling.</p><p>Stared catatonically straight ahead, making no indication that she was even attempting to process what she'd just done. And she wasn't, not was no thought, just hollow dark emptiness permeating her being. Swallowing her whole. Tom made quick work of changing into a fresh set of BDUs before rough drying his short hair. Stealing glances in his peripheral while he waited for her to react. Noted that hers was still soaking wet, and he bought a new towel over to her, kneeling next to her on the bed, and started tenderly drying it for her - much as he had done for Ashley when she was a child.</p><p>Tom carefully pulled the hairband from her ponytail, placing it on the small table at the bed's foot, before gathering her hair. Made sure to pat softly instead of the vigorous motion he'd used on his own so it wouldn't tangle, and she didn't know why, but this was the action that broke her. All of a sudden, a sob escaped her chest, strangled and breathless. Like her body was betraying her by letting it free. Tom stilled his movements, heart sinking.</p><p>"<em>Sash,</em>" he breathed.</p><p>Slowly, Tom drew her to him until her head nestled perfectly by his neck. Her ear was on his chest, his chin resting atop her head as he pulled her half into his lap. Another sob escaped. The hand that was not wrapped around her back came up to cradle her face, thumb gently wiping at the tears when they began to fall. Sasha grasped at his forearm tightly, desperately trying to hold on as her grief overwhelmed her. Desperate to make it stop.</p><p>"Let it out," he instructed softly as his body absorbed the force of her sobs. As he anchored her. He'd never seen her cry like this before. It hurt. Squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in her hair as he rocked her slightly. "You told me, before I left, that whatever was broken, we could fix... you were right then, and you're right now." Warm, steady, and comforting. Betraying none of the anguish he felt at seeing her broken like this.</p><p>Sasha crumbled. Anger. Grief. Betrayal. The endless ache that had been present since he left, all of it came pouring out. The fact that she really had nothing left. No-one. She'd made herself this way. It's not that she loved James, far from it in fact. James was a nice distraction, a warm body in a bed—a someone to fill her days and provide meaning outside of pining for Tom fucking Chandler. It was the fact that he'd <em>played</em> her. The fact that people were dead because she'd been so off her game that she hadn't seen it coming. That she'd let someone else close, and they'd betrayed her. <em>Again</em>. Just a mission. That's all she was, just something that people used to get what they needed before they discarded her. Present company included.</p><p><em>You left him first,</em> she reminded herself.</p><p>It was every tear she'd simply refused to shed when he'd had the audacity to sleep with her, kiss her like he loved her, then walk off the ship. It was the fact that he was only here now because of a chance encounter in Italy. That for <em>sixteen months</em>, she'd thought of him every day, and he couldn't even muster the courage to call her. How could it <em>not</em> break her heart? She missed her husband. The stable, loyal man that loved her yet didn't hold her down. Who understood that her job was her greatest passion in life, who supported her for it. A man who didn't have to compromise on his life's goals just to be with her.</p><p>"We can fix this." </p><p>Turns out, Sasha was good at leaving, but not that good at being left.</p><p>Eventually, the sobs subsided and gave way to miserable silent tears. Tom held her all the same, gently wiping her face with his fingers and rubbing her back in soothing motions, comforting her as best he could. Felt her body relax at some point, the hiccups and soft sniffs stopped. Tom glanced down, heart heavy. She'd fallen asleep in his arms. Realized he didn't know how to let go, but he needed to. Navy had rules, and they'd just executed a foreign agent aboard their ship, he needed to check-in. Slowly, Tom disentangled himself, worried that she hadn't even stirred. He knew Sasha to be a notoriously light sleeper, in the past, he'd thought even a changing wind could wake her. After tucking the cover and straightening her feet into a less contorted position, Tom crouched. Hovering there while he trailed fingers across her damp tacky cheek. Tucked errant strands of hair behind her ear. Willing his feet to move because all he wanted to do was stay and watch over her. With a heavy exhale, Tom stood. Turned off the light in his cabin, and closed the door softly behind him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mike, Meylan, and the Master Chief were already gathered around James and the Trawler Captain's personal effects when he reached the Wardroom. Their expressions grim, just as he felt. This was a <em>dark </em>day.</p><p>Five souls lost.</p><p>
  <em>O'Connor.</em>
</p><p>"What did I miss?" Tom asked as he entered the room, perfectly composed like he hadn't just seen what he'd seen.</p><p>"We confirmed that he," Meylan pushed forward a photograph of one of the refugees, "and Fletcher were seen conversing in the Helo Bay. There's nothing in these belongings to suggest that man was an actual Trawler Captain, or even Middle Eastern, for that matter. We questioned the refugees, and they all maintain that he joined their ship <em>after</em> they set sail. Around one week before the James' intercept." Meylan explained with disgust, throwing the bag down on the table in frustration.</p><p>Tom looked down in disappointment. <em>They'd been played. </em>"They knew we'd be compelled to pick them up." Judging by the tone of the room, they'd deduced the same thing.</p><p>"Why would the British throw away an alliance with the U.S." Mike asked incredulously.</p><p>"They must have cut a deal with Vellek, that's why they were pushing us towards Asteris – Greeks must have had a ship waiting," Tom suggested. "Either way, they're both coming for us now."</p><p>Mike shook his head and made an unpleasant sound. "The British are denying any involvement—they're claiming their man went rouge," he said, the expression on his face confirming that he, along with everyone else in the room knew it was bullshit. "POTUS isn't buying it either."</p><p>"What's our next move?" Tom asked.</p><p>"Still need to get the seeds back to the States, but it's a safe bet to assume our plans were compromised. We're waiting on a recommendation from POTUS. Scrambling any assets we have to find another plane, though it doesn't look likely." Mike informed. "Last thing we need is another war," he added.</p><p>On that, Tom agreed. Though his gut was telling him they were about to get one.</p><p>"How's Cooper?" Mike inquired, changing the subject, there was concern in his features.</p><p>Just like that, Tom's heart squeezed. He looked down, pursing his lips slightly. Tom wanted to protect her from this, but this was the Navy, she'd have to face leadership sooner or later. There were protocols, and reports, and rules. She wouldn't face ramifications from them, everyone knew she was loyal, but she did need to address it on record. There'd be a formal investigation. There always was when someone died.</p><p>"She needs time. Give her a day at least?" Tom settled on, trusting that it would communicate enough without oversharing her current predicament.</p><p>Mike's face fell. It must be bad then, the errant hurt lurking in Tom's eyes showed enough. Mike had come to care for her, she was competent, funny, smart, and had been in a unique position to understand his pain deeply when Tom left them. He felt responsible for her.</p><p>"Give her our best," Mike said, nodding his understanding. Tom reciprocated the nod in acknowledgment.</p><p>Mike straightened, conveying his directives. "I want damage and readiness reports in one hour," addressing Meylan and the Master Chief before turning his head toward Chandler. "You, go take care of Cooper. I'll send for you when I need you – that is all."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>When Tom returned, Sasha hadn't moved an inch from the position in which he'd left her. He hunched a little in relief when he was able to open the door and slip back in without her waking. A glance at his wristwatch revealed it was well past 0-three hundred. Right on the cusp between being wasteful to sleep, and meaning he'd be wiped by mid-day if he didn't attempt to at least nap. Tom didn't want to move her, nor did he think it right to impose himself without her consent, so he settled for resting in the chair. Pulled it into a position that let him rest his head against the locker and prop his feet up on the bed.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Sasha stirred, the first thing she saw was his boots propped up on the bed in front of her. She frowned in confusion before remembering, head throbbing and eyes heavy like lead. James. The Seeds. Their dead shipmates.</p><p>Her failure.</p><p>It pressed down on her, and Sasha found herself wanting to crawl into a hole and die. In an effort to do that, Sasha rolled to face the wall instead, the sound and motion enough to wake Tom. His neck was stiff, pain flaring because his ass had gone to sleep hours ago and he hadn't moved. But she had, and that's why he was awake he now realized.</p><p>"Sash?" he sounded groggy.</p><p>She didn't know what to say or what to do, so she settled for nothing instead. For silence. It was easier. Heard him sigh, and then his knee crack the way it did whenever he kept it in one position too long—could picture the grimace on his face as his body protested the position he'd slept in all night. Somehow, it made her sadder—if that were possible. The bed shifted behind, indicating that he was now sitting beside her at her back, and now that Sasha could feel his body heat, she realized she was cold. The covers had shifted in the night, and the AC had been blasting her. Goosebumps erupted, and she started to shiver. Tom noticed and got up, readjusting and tucking them around her to make sure she was appropriately covered again.</p><p>Fuck, she wished he would leave. Squeezed her eyes tightly, lip already trembling because she was too vulnerable and raw to be around him right now. She didn't think she could do this anymore, any of it. Hadn't felt this close to giving up entirely since hiding in that shack in China, surrounded by rotting bodies. Tom knew she was awake. Her breathing was different, shallower—if she wasn't ready to talk to him, she wasn't ready. He didn't want to push her. Not yet, at least. But he was scared—he couldn't protect her from this, and he knew this path well…</p><p>Tom sat next to her again and rested his elbows on his knees. Watch said it was a little past 0-eight hundred. "Can I get you anything?" he suggested after a few more minutes of silence. A tear slipped down her nose from behind closed eyelids. Took several moments to try and compose herself, he was trying so hard to show he was sorry, and she was so tired of trying to keep him out.</p><p>"How many?" she asked instead, her voice was hoarse. Tom furrowed his brows in confusion. "How many people, Tom?" she asked again when he didn't answer.</p><p>The heaviness set in—the guilt. "Five… O'Connor was one of them," he answered. Tom felt it against his back as she curled in on herself, crumbling again. She bit her lip in shame, tasting blood when the skin split thanks to their dryness. She should have seen this coming. She'd been so distracted. The more Sasha thought about it, the more Fletcher's behavior over the past week made sense. He'd been distant, vacant—like he was off in his own world of thoughts—wrongly she'd assumed it was because of them. Because of Tom being back, but the more she pondered, she realized that his attitude hadn't changed until <em>after</em> they'd picked up the refugees. Not when they'd found Tom in Italy.</p><p>"There's no way... no way he could have played me this long," she mumbled more for the benefit of herself than anyone else. She was crying again, he could hear it in her voice. Feel her body shaking as she tried to suppress the tears.</p><p>"<em>Sash</em>," he whispered, turning so he could touch her. He couldn't stand it anymore, couldn't just sit there and listen with his back turned as she fell apart. </p><p>"Tom, he was with us until we picked up that ship. I'm sure of it," she cut him off. Felt his hands wrap themselves around her upper arm gently. Squeezing it slightly in comfort. She hiccupped. All she wanted was to lay here, in his bed, while he held her, and pretend that none of this had happened—hated herself for it. She was letting them down—the crew was cleaning up<em> her</em> mess and she couldn't stop crying for more than five minutes to think. Couldn't stop wanting his comfort, and to forget that he'd left if just for this moment. </p><p>"Master Chief confirmed he was seen talking with the Trawler Captain multiple times in the Helo bay… Captain didn't board their ship until a week before our intercept."</p><p>Sasha made a noise of disgust and shook her head. "So, they were working together." Her voice was choked. "And the British?"</p><p>"Claiming he went rogue."</p><p>She sniffed, wiping the snot that was trailing down her nose angrily. She was a fucking fool. Too trusting. She hadn't even bothered to look after they <em>barely</em> vetted the refugees. She hadn't even considered this. <em>Five people. </em>He'd called the Greeks right under their nose, and no one had bothered to monitor communications—they caught him by chance. That's it—blind fucking luck, and now he was dead. She'd killed him.</p><p>"I didn't have a choice," she croaked out, "he was too close to the edge, if I hadn't put him down, he still could have jumped… we would have lost the seeds…"</p><p>"<em>Hey,</em>" Tom cooed, turning her body to him so he could get a better look at her face. To make sure she was hearing him when he said this. She resisted him slightly, letting her body move but refusing to turn her head. "Look at me," he called softly, not failing to remember her asking the same of him on that plane in Missouri. The idea that she felt as empty as he had at that moment causing his insides to twist. He <em>hated</em> this.</p><p>Slowly, she complied, turning her head and opening her eyes to look at him. They were puffy and bloodshot, eyelashes clumped together in wet spikes with pieces of hair stuck to her cheeks. Her throat hurt so much, the pressure build-up from trying to stop herself from sobbing like she had last night making it scream in protest.</p><p>Tom smiled at her softly, "There you are." Eyes warm and loving—just him. <em>Tom</em>, no trace of the decades that plagued them or marred by their history at all. <em>Her</em> Tom, the one who told her he loved her with every look that he gave. She hadn't seen him in so long, and the pang of longing, the sheer force of how deeply she missed him was too much. Her features crumpled, couldn't handle the way he was looking at her. Tom cupped her face and started wiping the tears as they fell again—as he leaned over her, gently un-hooking strands of hair and putting them back in place for a few moments until he sensed that her crying wasn't going to stop.</p><p>"C'mere," he said, adjusting himself again, pushing her closer to the wall to make room. Sasha heard him unlacing his boots and shrugging out of his BDU Jacket before lifting the covers and joining her in the bed. She moved so his arm could slide under and buried her face in his chest, tears coming in earnest again. He was so warm, he smelled like she remembered. She wrapped her arm around his waist and grabbed a fist full of the blue shirt. Felt him encircle her tightly, and a hand cradle the back of her head with fingers splayed through her hair.</p><p>"There was nothing you could have done," he started calmly, rubbing her back. She tangled her legs with his. She wanted to disappear. To stay here with him. She wanted him to make it stop. "This doesn't rest on your shoulders alone—we <em>all</em> missed this," he continued, voice reverberating through her skull as he spoke, as she heard it vibrate through his chest. "We <em>all </em>let our guard down. But you had the strength to stop it... not everyone could have taken that shot, but you did. And it was the right thing to do." He listened as she cried, closed his own eyes, and exhaled while adjusting his head on the pillow. She'd figure this out. Sasha had resolve like he'd never seen before, resolve that he envied, and a kind of courage that he just didn't posses. If she needed to lay in bed and cry for a day to do it—who was he to say otherwise.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom was awakened by a knock on the door, jumping a fraction before remembering the weight on his chest. He blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from his eyes. Heard Sasha make a noise as she stirred too, and though he didn't want to, he lifted her so he could answer. As he stood, Tom grimaced. Pins and needles flaring in his right arm where the circulation had been cut off by her weight. He glanced at his watch on the way, 1115 hours. Tom squinted against the bright artificial light in the p-way. Made sure his body blocked the bed from view. One of the newer enlisted crewmen stood sheepishly on the other side, obviously nervous at being sent to retrieve him.</p><p>"Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Captain Slattery needs you in the wardroom," he sputtered, tripping slightly over his own words.</p><p>Tom nodded. "Thank you," his eyes shifted to the name tag, "Jacobs. Tell Captain I'm on my way," he instructed. Didn't particularly enjoy the added lore surrounding his name these days. How people walked on eggshells around him, treated him like he was some kind of demigod rather than a mere man.</p><p>"Aye, Sir."</p><p>Tom closed the door softly, turning back toward the bed. She was awake, had pulled the covers tighter around her like a cocoon until only her eyes poked out and the top of her head as she watched. Tom smiled tenderly at her, bending down to pick up his shoes. Pulled the desk chair over and sat down, lacing them up deftly with fast precision borne from years of experience.</p><p>"Mike needs to see me." She watched as he pulled on his Jacket, fingers buttoning it deftly without looking. "Can I get you anything?" he asked again, letting his hands fall to his sides. Sasha considered his face, noticing the bags under his eyes but appreciating the fact that wasn't pitying her. She couldn't stand pity, and he knew that. He was just offering to help—she should probably accept it. She'd lectured him enough times that accepting support didn't mean you were weak. She pulled the covers down slightly, tucking them under her chin, sucking on her cheek somewhat before speaking.</p><p>"Do something for me?" she asked tentatively.</p><p>He turned his head to the side slightly, "Anything," he responded readily, and something about that made her heart pull.</p><p>"His things…" she pursed her lips, hoping that he understood what she was asking. Tom nodded his head at her once, not entirely hiding the level of contempt he now held towards Fletcher.</p><p>"I'll take care of it," he confirmed. Paused before he left one more time to look at her with the softness he reserved just for her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mike wasted no time in getting straight down to business once he'd arrived.</p><p>"The Prime Minister contacted the President. Stated we are in violation of our international treaty, and by executing a foreign agent, and a noncombatant civilian national seeking asylum, the Geneva convention as well," he began, Meylan scoffed and rolled his eyes, making a face that displayed just how ridiculous these claims were. "They've given us 24 hours to turn over the agent or agents responsible for their deaths—"</p><p>"No." Tom interrupted him calmly, his hands clasped behind his back. Raising his head slowly from the readiness reports he'd been scanning that were left open on the table. The resolution in his eyes, stance, and tone were unmistakable as he made sure to look at each and every one of them. "That's not gonna happen." Making sure there could be no doubt of his conviction on this matter, and any further discussion regarding a plan would involve <em>only </em>how not to surrender Sasha. This was not a question, and it was not up for debate.</p><p>"—failure to comply with the terms set forth by both international agreements will be treated as an act of war," Mike finished, throwing the communication down on the table with disgust. Tom was still staring intently at him, steel blue intensely focused and clear.</p><p>"Obviously, we're not gonna give her to them," Mike confirmed, looking directly at Tom and moving his head in such a way as to tell him to stand down. Tom softened his stance slightly but the intense focus remained.</p><p>"Wouldn't matter if we did. They need an excuse to attack this ship, and they just found one." It was a smart play. Put them in a difficult position.</p><p>"So, what do we do?" Meylan chimed in.</p><p>Tom chewed on his lip, crossing his arms over his chest as he tried to think. "They can't risk sinking us while we have the seeds." He looked over at Mike, raising his head slightly. "What exactly did you tell POTUS about Fletcher?" he asked. Mike made a face of confusion.</p><p>"That he tried to steal the seeds along with the trawler captain, and we had to put him down before he jumped off the ship." Tom's mouth twitched. <em>That's it.</em></p><p>"<em>We</em>, or Cooper?" He pried.</p><p>Mike's eyebrows rose in understanding, a small smirk forming. "We," said with certainty. "Haven't submitted the official report yet – <em>needs her statement</em>."</p><p>Tom sucked on his cheeks a little and folded his arms. "Good. <em>I</em> killed Fletcher," he declared, not missing the micro expression on Meylan's face. "The British are weak, even with the Greeks. They barely survived the immune wars, their fleet was all but wiped out—their air force is in shambles—Fletcher said so himself. They don't want a war, they just want the seeds to hold up their end of the deal with Vellek. We call their bluff. It's the only way we'll know exactly what we're up against—how deep the Vellek's resources go. Once we have instructions we'll come up with a plan to get us out of the strait." Tom saw the skeptical look on Mike's face, the unspoken question. <em>What about you? </em>"Politically, I don't think the British want to be responsible for the death of Tom Chandler—they'd have more than the Greeks and Americans against them at that point, they'll to try bargain once they figure it out," he elaborated.</p><p>It made him uncomfortable, the fact that he was arguably the most recognizable face in the new world. That he was considered American royalty. Global royalty. That his name would go down in history books as the man that <em>'saved the world'</em>. He never wanted <em>any </em>of that, but if he could use it to his, and their advantage—he would.</p><p>"You're asking us to lie to the President of the United States in an official report." Meylan surmised, his tone skeptical at best.</p><p>Tom turned to face him directly. Reminded in that moment of staging a coup in Asia against his command to take back his ship. He raised his head the same way he had then. Squared his shoulders and stood tall.</p><p>
  <em>Honor. Courage. Commitment.</em>
</p><p>"That's <em>exactly </em>what I'm asking you to do."</p><p>They made eye contact across the table before Meylan shifted his eyes to the two other officers. First Slattery and then the Master Chief. They were both staring at their Captain with barely contained adoration—he saw it. <em>There it was</em>, the same love and devotion he'd seen back in Asia. Even if <em>he</em> didn't agree—<em>they</em> were following him regardless.</p><p>Tom Chandler was indeed back. Meylan sucked in a breath and addressed the Master Chief. "Did anyone else see?" while still looking at Chandler, he'd concede. Tom made an expression of respect at him, lips quirking down as he nodded his head slightly. <em>Good man.</em></p><p>"Only Green and Burk," Jeter confirmed readily.</p><p>"Very well, get them up here," Mike instructed. The Master Chief nodded and left.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>An hour later, after they'd all sat together, each writing by hand their official personal accounts for Captain Slattery to compile, Mike walked in. Striding purposefully over to Tom and handing him a file.</p><p>"Just waiting on your signature."</p><p>Tom took the folder from him, wrist flicking it open as he grabbed it with years of finesse. His eyes scanned the words quickly. <em>'…And Captain Chandler successfully prohibited both the Trawler Captain and Commander Fletcher from disembarking the Ship with the package through the use of deadly force...' </em>Tom barely reacted. Looked first at Mike, then at Meylan, Green, Burk, and the Master Chief. Gave a small nod, struck by the loyalty and service of this crew, by their willingness to step up to the plate and protect her this way.</p><p>"Sounds accurate."</p><p>Putting it on the table and signing the last page before flipping it closed with another flick of his wrist and promptly passing it back. Mike stood taller, inhaling, and puffing up his chest a little. They were really doing this, honestly couldn't quite believe that Meylan had gone for it—all six of them, lying under oath, in an official report.</p><p>"I'll contact POTUS now and let him know we intend to surrender."</p><p>Tom watched Mike leave. He needed to talk to Sasha, but first, he needed to take care of Fletcher's belongings like she'd asked. He left the room and headed toward her cabin. There wasn't much of his there, thankfully. A toothbrush, some toiletries, and a few pieces of clothing. Fletcher still had his own room, which a crewman had already been sent to clean. Tom was checking drawers making sure he hadn't missed anything when he found a picture, pausing while a wistful smile passed across his face. He'd always suspected that Sasha was secretly just as sentimental as he, but it was the confirmation he needed. It was in the top drawer of her bedside table, tucked in next to his iPod. Tom recognized it, knew she'd taken it from his house by the frame. Darien had kept it on the wall in the hallway next to their wedding photographs. It was his most recent formal Navy portrait, taken when he'd received command of the Nathan James. Tom closed the drawer and made a final sweep before leaving with the last of James' belongings.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom was shocked by Sasha's appearance when he returned to his room. She was dressed in her clothes from yesterday, his bed had been made, clothes folded and towels picked up and neatly stacked. She looked put together, hair back in a neat ponytail, though a little wavy still at the ends. They made eye contact while he closed the door with a soft click and Sasha stood. She was done wallowing, five people had died trying to stop Fletcher from taking those seeds. She was not honoring their sacrifice by hiding out in Tom's room feeling sorry for herself. The silence was a little awkward.</p><p>"Nice to see you up," he commented, wanting to say something—anything.</p><p>She raised her head slightly in acknowledgment. "No use pitying myself." Her tone was clipped, concise. She was cold, dethatched. She'd managed to erect new walls around herself—found a way to move forward. "I'm sure Captain Slattery's waiting on a statement," she began, moving toward the door.</p><p>"Not quite…" Tom warned, and she stopped. Turning her head to him slowly with a look that perfectly communicated her point. <em>What have you done, Tom?</em></p><p>He looked her up and down as if he was considering whether he wanted to be the one to tell or to leave it up to someone else. "The British are demanding we hand over the agent responsible for Fletcher and the Captain. Said they'd consider it an act of war if we don't," he explained, hands in his pockets as if he was sharing something as mundane as a weather report.</p><p>She blinked and quirked her head. "<em>What?</em>" she asked, completely shocked.</p><p>"We told the President it was me." Narrowed his eyes at her while her nostrils flared, and her expression made several motions of disbelief before she finally settled for something.</p><p>"Excuse me?" her tone was sharp, low, indignant. "You can't do that!"</p><p>"It's already done." He punctuated, raising his chin defiantly.</p><p>Sasha made a noise of disbelief, her breathing increasing in pace as she considered the ramifications of this. "<em>Tom</em>, you can't waltz back in and ask people to lie under oath for you because you don't want to give me up!"</p><p>"It was our best play," he objected, his tone calm and controlled while she was about to border on hysterical again. "They don't want a war. They just need a reason to try and board this ship, they want the seeds." Sasha broke eye contact, almost rolling her eyes instead, and shook her head at him in exasperation. "They'll have more trouble on their hands if something were to happen to Tom Chandler in their custody than the Vellek's," he pointed out.</p><p>"They wouldn't start <em>anything </em>if you just handed me over and arranged a safe passage out of the strait! They'd have no card to play!" She looked at him darkly—<em>knew </em>he knew this. She wasn't going to let him insult her intelligence by acting like this was a better plan.</p><p>"It's not gonna happen," he repeated his statement from earlier—locked eyes with her, daring her to argue—to try him on this. "Let's say I handed you over, then what!?" his tone was clipped, louder than he usually used with her. "They'd still be coming at us only we'd have no way of knowing how many and where!" he paused, something heavy passing over his features while his eyes faltered a fraction. "And you'd be dead the second they realized they can't torture it out of you."</p><p>They stayed locked in a silent battle of wills for close to thirty seconds before she finally dropped eye contact with him and scoffed. "I can't believe they went for this," she muttered under her breath—if he really had surrendered himself, which she was sure he had, it meant that he'd managed to convince<em> five</em> other senior members of this crew to lie for him to protect her. She didn't know whether to be touched by their loyalty or angry with him for his feelings compromising the structure of command so severely. Settled for the latter.</p><p>She looked at him again, running her tongue over her teeth in annoyance.</p><p><em>"Tom knows best,</em>" she parroted at him, fixing him with a glare before turning and leaving his room, let the door slam as she left.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>November 13th, 2015</strong>—<strong>0700</strong>—<strong>F</strong><strong>our hours until deadline</strong></p><p>"I have the location!" Mike called.</p><p>"<em>Captain Slattery on the bridge"</em></p><p>He'd just received communication from President Oliver. Master Chief stood to attention as he walked over to the console. "Their <em>partners</em> will accept Tom's surrender here." Threw down the nautical map down circled the coordinates he'd been given. Tom peered over at the map, that spot was less than two nautical miles from Asteris, still hidden from radar by the island chain.</p><p>Tom shook his head. "The Greeks," Tom confirmed.</p><p>Mike nodded in agreement. "You were right, they were waiting behind Asteris to pick up Fletcher and the seeds," he added looking over to everyone in the room. "They've let us know we're surrounded. Three other battleships left in the Greek fleet are positioned strategically through the strait." He looked over at Gator, signaling his input.</p><p>Stepping forward, Gator began placing X marks at various points on the map. "My estimates put them here, here, and here."</p><p>"Standard defense formation," Tom contributed.</p><p>"Correct, Sir,"</p><p>Sasha started pacing exasperated as she looked between them. She was doing that thing with her jaw when she couldn't quite believe how stupid they'd all been, Tom's eyes tracked her as she moved—back and forth, seething at him silently.</p><p>"Smart," Mike commented.</p><p>"British are known for their Naval warfare," Tom supplied his tone wry, before dropping his gaze from Sasha and folding his arms over his chest to ponder solutions.</p><p>Sasha rolled her eyes. He was <em>enjoying</em> this, this game of cat and mouse.</p><p>Kara stepped forward. "We assume that while you make your way to the rally coordinates, ships one, two, and three will dispatch separate boarding parties from just outside of firing range," She explained, using the pen to mark incoming trajectories. "We plan to send nomad to scout the exact locations of the target ships, my team will be ready with firing solutions the second they're within range," she said confidently.</p><p>Tom nodded, bringing a hand up absently to play with the slight stubble on his cheek as he thought.</p><p>Green stepped forward. "Vulture, Cobra, and Bravo teams two will deploy in RHIB's to intercept the boarding parties, sink em before they can even get in range. While we keep them busy and distracted, Vulture, Bravo, and Cobra teams one will traverse, outside of radar and board ships one, two, and three respectively. Once we've neutralized the dive-teams, we'll rendezvous with teams one and provide back-up." he added to the lines on the tactical map.</p><p>Tom smiled slightly, picking up the pen. "And I, will light up a beacon once I join our friends hiding behind Asteris—Nathan James will get a bearing for targeting solutions, by the time they know what's hit em, we'll have all three of their ships under our command and the fourth in our sights – they'll be dead in the water and we'll have ourselves a stalemate," he finished softly.</p><p>It was a solid plan. Mike was smiling, Meylan looked happy, Kara, Gator, Master Chief, Green, Burk… he was proud. His eyes intersected with Sasha's again and his heart fell a little. She was angry – he understood, but he didn't regret his decision. It was for the best, the Greek's and British would use him as a bargaining chip once they realized their fleet was compromised, and that's exactly what he needed. It would give the James just enough time to mount a rescue. Anyone else would simply be killed while the Greek ship disappeared and retreated to plan a second attack. Still, her disappointment in him stung.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They were suited and booted not one hour later. Sasha was on Cobra team one—infiltrating Greek warship number three. She inhaled slightly as he approached her, she was pulling her dive gear onto her back. They were headed out soon to make sure they were in position in time for the drop off. If she wasn't so mad at him, she probably would have appreciated his appearance more. He looked good, like his old self again, like he had in China. Always had liked him best in their all-blacks – second only to ceremonial whites of course.</p><p>Sasha lifted her eyes, this was familiar. "I don't need a speech, Tom," she warned. He made a face.</p><p>"I wasn't giving one." Normal people made sure they didn't go to bed mad at each other, he needed to make sure they didn't go on this mission with bad blood—on any mission for that matter. "I stand by my decision. I think you know that better than anyone... But for what it's worth—I'm sorry." Sasha pouted and avoided looking at him by zipping another bag, a little aggressively. Her brows the only indication that she was actually listening to him.</p><p>"Lot of people here that care about you. If it wasn't me, Mike said he would have made the call too," Tom added. That got her attention and she finally stopped refusing to look at him. Traveling his form, up and down before she settled for returning his gaze. He saw the moment that she softened a little, the ice thawing. How she raised her chin a fraction of an inch to acknowledge. He returned the gesture, was about to walk away but something in her expression held him back. Sensed that she was debating whether to say something else.</p><p>"Be careful," she whispered. His lip quirked slightly, warmth spreading. What was it she'd said?</p><p>"Head on a swivel?" he asked, eliciting the reaction he'd craved. A knowing grin. Some liveliness in her eyes and he could feel the all too familiar pull in his chest, the one that told him he loved her.</p><p>"On a swivel," she echoed nodding slowly at him.</p><p>"<em>Wheels up in five!" </em>Green called out.</p><p>Tom lingered a moment more before breathing in deeply and forcing himself to walk away.</p><p>
  <em>Mission comes first.</em>
</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was addictive in a way.</p><p>Those quiet moments before battle, those few precious minutes of self-reflection while standing on the precipice between life and death. Indescribable—yet, when you looked around at your fellow soldiers, when you thought of your guardian angels—the crewmembers watching over your every move, you knew—they felt it too. They understood in a way that someone on the outside never could.</p><p>There was something beautiful in that.</p><p>Every chess piece was set, every player in position. The day unbelievably calm and still after the storm.</p><p>"Hey, Burk," Miller whispered under his breath. Burk leaned over to hear what he had to say, the motion causing the RHIB to ripple slightly. "Are you superstitious?"</p><p>Burk made a face of confusion. "Whatchu talking about, man?"</p><p>"Today's Friday 13th, that's like a bad omen, right?" Miller asked.</p><p>Burk made a face of disapproval before shoving his elbow in Miller's ribs and clicked his teeth. "Man, get the hell outta here with that!" He shook his head in disbelief, "Bad omen my ass," he finished sarcastically.</p><p>Sasha smiled to herself, her attention drawn by the sound of her radio crackling to life.</p><p><em>"All teams be advised</em>—<em>package is on the move."</em></p><p>"Roger that, Cobra one in position and heading to target point Charlie, out," she responded in turn. Sasha stood, zipping up the dry suit and pulling the goggles over her face as Burk and Miller mirrored her movements. "Time to go, boys," she said with a grin and quirk of her head. She positioned herself on the edge of the RHIB, placing the re-breather in her mouth, and fell backward into the ocean.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom slowed his RHIB as he saw another vessel approaching; waited patiently as they pulled up beside him. <em>"Hands!"</em> someone yelled as a dozen men with weapons trained on him stood at attention. Tom complied, studying their uniforms. British insignias. That told him one of two things, they either had access to a plane to get here this fast or had more assets than they were letting on. He was pulled roughly into their boat and immediately bound and hodded. Once boarded on the Greek Warship, the hood was ripped off. Tom squinted while his eyes re-adjusted to the onslaught of light, looking around the deck. Had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Commander Stavros, Lucia, and Giorgio—<em>of course</em>. Tom had to stop himself from rolling his eyes.</p><p>"Captain Chandler, how nice of you to join us." He cringed—she sounded like she was paraphrasing every corny action movie he'd ever seen.</p><p>"Didn't have much of a choice," he mumbled disinterested, mentally beginning to catalog every detail available to him. The approximate position of their ship based on the time since he'd left the James and the position of the sun relative to him. Watched as one of the British soldiers stepped forward, uniform read Wilson.</p><p>Wilson removed his helmet revealing a short buzzcut. "I need to communicate with the P.M. No one told us it was Tom Chandler we were arresting," he spoke to Lucia in hushed, urgent tones. Sounded frustrated in Tom's opinion. <em>Good.</em></p><p>Lucia nodded, "Of course," gesturing for one of the crew to take him back to the communications room. When she looked back at Tom the hatred was plain as day in her features. "Lock him in the Brig."</p><p>Seems like Lucia managed to find herself in command of a Warship. All the better for them, Tom thought as he was pushed unceremoniously forward. Emotional decisions rarely lead to solid strategy, and Lucia was out of her league.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Green motioned for the boat to stop. "Contact on radar! Dive team-in bound, bearing NW 60 degrees!" he turned, "Wolf, get that baby in the water and get us the hell out of here. We have less than two minutes to intercept!"</p><p>"On it!" Wolf shouted back, jumping into action to help push the bomb overboard and into the water.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha crawled silently over the railing, quickly scanning the deck for crewmembers. Once she was sure they were clear—their entry point timed perfectly with the natural shift change that occurred on every well run military ship, she motioned for Burk and Miller to ascend. They silently un-did the tether—let it fall to the ocean below, leaving no trace that they'd boarded and got into formation. Sasha in lead position. Mentally she ran through the schematics, the same movements she'd been rehearsing in her mind for the past three hours as she led them in the most efficient route possible to the engine room.</p><p>Pulled the trigger deftly, dropping a crewman quickly before he'd even had time to register what was happening. Rounded a corner to clear a hallway while Burk stepped through, taking care of the next. She held the gun close to her chest and peaked out. Making eye contact with Miller and then Burk, who both nodded back at her. Burk motioned left—they were moving.</p><p>Like a well-oiled machine for three minutes, it continued like that as they left a trail of bodies in their wake. <em>They got this. </em>She could only hope and trust that their other teams were executing as well as them.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mike stood at the helm, watching the clock, adrenaline coursing through his veins. Tom should already be aboard the Greek ship, and if everything went to plan, Cobra two should have intercepted the first dive-team. This was always the worst part. The waiting, the standing around while his teams were out there risking their lives.</p><p><em>"Nathan James, Cobra two, dive team Charlie has been neutralized, proceeding to back up Cobra one at rally point, over!"</em> came Green's voice.</p><p>Mike clenched a fist and raised it in excitement. "Good hunting Cobra Two, Vulture Team Two, what is your status, over," Mike responded.</p><p><em>"Nathan James, this is Vulture Team Two, bogie in the water and waiting for intercept, detonation expected T-Minus thirty seconds, over"</em> came Azima's voice.</p><p>"Outstanding," Mike said, putting the radio back in its holster. Bravo team was due to check-in in three minutes.</p><p>
  <em>"CIC, Bridge. Surface Radar just picked up the beacon from Captain Chandler, the fourth ship is located 2 clicks North-East of Asteris island."</em>
</p><p>Gator immediately moved a ship piece onto the console to visually represent their position. Mike glanced over at it nodding his head.</p><p>"Bridge, CIC, get me firing solutions—I want that ship in my sights at all times!" Mike turned toward his OOD "Set a course to intercept at rally point Delta."</p><p>
  <em>"OOD, Aye, set course to intercept at rally point Delta."</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom wasted no time when he was thrust into the Brig. He chewed on the small RFID tag he'd been holding against his cheek to activate it and swallowed. Wouldn't be long now before Stavros' crew realized they were getting interference from a signal. He laid his head back against the bulkhead and waited.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Yes, Ma'am, they gave us Tom Chandler," Wilson said in hushed tones.</p><p>
  <em>"We can't let that opportunity go, make sure whatever you do that you don't lose custody of him to the Greeks. I don't trust them, and as long as we have Chandler, the American's will bargain with us."</em>
</p><p>"Yes, Ma'am," he confirmed, hanging up the phone. He looked at his watch, a frown forming. Should have heard from the dive teams by now.</p><p>He pulled his radio out of his vest, "Zulu Team Alpha, this is Commander Wilson—have you boarded the Nathan James?" Static. "I say again, Zulu Team Alpha, this is Commander Wilson - What is your status? Over."</p><p>Static.</p><p>
  <em>"Shit!"</em>
</p><p>He strode purposefully back to the bridge, angrily rounding the corner and heading straight for Stavros and Lucia. "We have a problem; I can't get the dive teams to respond."</p><p>Stavros and Lucia glanced at each other. "Hail our other Ships, I want a status report!" Stavros barked. A crewman immediately picked up the inter-ship phone and started hailing the three other vessels.</p><p>
  <em>"Nereus, Demeter, Proteus what is your status?"</em>
</p><hr/><p>Sasha pressed her gun harder to the Captain's head. Though she wasn't fluent in Greek, knowing a plethora of languages helped her pick it up the basics well enough. She unhooked the phone and handed it to him. "You can let them know, the American's have paid you a nice visit, and have all three of your ships under control." She instructed calmly while the man scowled back at her.</p><p><em>"Κύριε, οι Αμερικανοί έχουν επιβιβαστεί στα πλοία μας. Δεν έχουμε πλέον τον έλεγχο του στόλου!" </em>the Captain said.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Damnit!" Stavros cursed, hanging the phone up aggressively. "The Americans have taken control of the fleet; they have boarded all three of our ships," he explained to Lucia and Wilson.</p><p>Lucia slammed her hand down on the console. "Get Chandler! What about Nathan James? Have we located them yet!?"</p><p>"We have no contact on Radar, but we are getting interference—someone is broadcasting a radio signal from our location…"</p><p>"<em>Chandler,</em>" Lucia growled.</p><p>"Sir, we're being hailed on Channel 16 by the Nathan James, requesting to move to Channel 68," a crewmember spoke.</p><p>Stavros closed his eyes in frustration and picked up the intercom, signaling to his servicemen to patch him through.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Sir, they've accepted our hail, you're clear to transmit," Granderson said.</p><p>Captain Slattery picked up the com, a grin on his face, and began speaking. "HS Triton, this is Commander Slattery of the U.S.S Nathan James. By now, as you have likely discovered, we have you surrounded. HS's Nereus, Demeter, and Proteus are under U.S. command. Your fleet is dead in the water. Your boarding parties neutralized... I believe you have something we want, and we are willing to make a trade," he stated confidently.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Stavros hung his head; he'd known this was a bad plan to begin with—that they were at a tactical loss against the Americans but the Vellek's had insisted, or more specifically, Lucia. He shook his head. "What are your terms?" he responded after a pregnant pause. He was done playing games, he was done risking the lives of his crew for their family.</p><p>Lucia tried to grab the radio from him. "No! You can't give him up!" she started but he snatched it away from her hands.</p><p>"Your family has done enough damage!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Slattery smirked, looking over at his XO.</p><p>"We are willing to surrender twenty-five percent of the seeds, in good faith, provided the British release Captain Chandler to our custody," he instructed. "We will leave the strait, and upon our safe retreat, our teams will relinquish control of your fleet." He paused. "And might I remind you, if something were to happen to Captain Chandler, we have your vessel, as well as your fleet, within firing range. I will not hesitate to blow you <em>all </em>out of the water."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>On the Greek ship, they stood paralyzed, trying to formulate options that might help them out of this predicament. It was a stalemate, and they knew it. Giorgio rolled his eyes, chuckled like he was enjoying the show. Lucia looked… almost rabid.</p><p>"You did this!" she said viciously, pointing her finger at him.</p><p>Tom shrugged his shoulders, feigning innocence, before turning to address the British troops' apparent leader. "This really what your Prime Minister had in mind when she backed out of a U.S. alliance?" he asked, nodding at the chaos and instability that was the Greek and Vellek's leadership.</p><p>From one military man to another, Wilson could agree that it was embarrassing. But he was simply following orders. "Somehow, I think not." Wilson agreed.</p><p>Lucia snapped her head at him. "My father is the only man who can use those seeds to make the cure!"</p><p>"Your father is a kook, and he was chased out of the U.S. long before the virus for his less than sane views" Tom countered.</p><p>She slapped him, hard enough to make his head snap to the side. Tom rolled his tongue across his teeth while he tempered his rage and turned his head back slowly. Eyes steely with quiet dissent.</p><p>"Enough!" Wilson snapped, he'd had enough of this shit show. Their mission was to get the seeds, and it was becoming increasingly clear that their intelligence had been extremely compromised concerning the ability of Vellek and this <em>insane</em> family to produce a cure. "Tell them the British agree to their terms. I need to get the PM back on the phone," he commanded, pointing at Stavros and signaling his troops to raise their weapons on the Greeks.</p><p>"What are you doing!?" Lucia exclaimed.</p><p>"I'm finishing my mission!" he said, disinterested before walking back to the coms room. Tom smiled, looking down at the floor. Everything was going exactly as he'd planned. Now all he had to do was wait for the cavalry to arrive.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>November 13th, 2015</strong>—<strong>1500 hours</strong>—<strong>four hours under siege.</strong></p><p>Stavros peered out onto the horizon with binoculars watching for the American boarding party. He spotted a RHIB approaching from the South-West and lowered his binoculars, stepping inside the Bridge again. "They're here," he said simply, giving Lucia a pointed look. She looked over at Giorgio, who nodded slowly at her.</p><p>"Great!" Giorgio exclaimed, clapping his hands in front of him and looking over at Wilson whose men still had weapons trained on the room. During the wait, both he and Lucia had been contained in two seats by armed guards. "I'd like to go and greet our guests," he said expectantly.</p><p>Wilson raised his eyebrows at him. "And what makes you think you're going?"</p><p>"Well, unless you can tell the difference between seeds, you need someone who can verify they have the goods we want," he drawled, fixing him with a bored stare. Wilson seemed to consider this for a moment before conceding.</p><p>"Just you," he commanded, heading toward the lower deck to meet the boarding party. </p><p>Tom narrowed his eyes, something felt off about Giorgio's request. Hadn't missed the silent exchange with his Sister, but he couldn't tell what.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha, Green, and Burk stood waiting on the lower deck having ascended the ladder provided to them. They'd agreed to no guns, and frankly, it made them incredibly uncomfortable. Wilson, Giorgio, and a couple of British soldiers emerged from a hatch. The second Giorgio spotted Sasha he stepped forward. She didn't miss the way Wilson kept his weapon trained on him. <em>Interesting.</em></p><p>"Wow," he said, looking her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. "What is <em>your </em>name?"</p><p>Sasha made a disinterested expression before turning toward Burk and Green who looked equally as perplexed. The salacious, smarmy curve of Giorgio's lip as he pouted at her did nothing to spark her interest. Rather made him look like a fool, and she had to bite down on the urge to punch it from his face.</p><p>"None of your goddamn business," she answered, "Where is Captain Chandler?" got straight down to business instead. Giorgio made a tutting sound and pouted at her.</p><p>"You show me yours, I'll show you mine," he cooed.</p><p>Sasha rolled her eyes and pulled the small capsule from where she'd tucked it in her vest, shaking the bottle for emphasis. He reached out a hand and she snapped them away from him. "I showed you mine," she warned, raising her eyebrow and canting her head.</p><p>Giorgio smirked at her, biting his lip as he let his heated gaze very blatantly travel her body again before turning to Wilson, who was tapping his foot with barely contained rage. "They're the real deal."</p><p>Wilson nodded over to his soldiers and stepped forward. "This way," he commanded, gesturing for them to follow him. It was the distraction Giorgio was looking for, he hung back while they headed back to the Pilot House, and slipped away unnoticed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha took inventory the second they stepped onto the bridge. Tom was being held near the central console, sat in a chair with his hands bound behind his back. The Greek woman, Lucia, and the Greek Captain were also being held under gun control in two separate chairs by British soldiers. Sasha raised her brows<em>. Very interesting turn of events. </em>She made eye contact with Tom, he looked fine, and her heart rate slowed significantly. Feared they would have roughed him up at least.</p><p>All of a sudden, a gunshot rang out, and she dropped, rolling to take cover as all hell broke loose. Giorgio was hailing bullets wildly through the room at the British soldiers, who were now firing back. He'd managed to free some of the Greek crew on his way up, who were now also, firing on the British in an attempt to take back the ship. Sasha scrambled on her hands and knees to one of the fallen and grabbed his gun, whirling around, trying to get a visual on who to shoot. She glanced over at Tom. He had toppled the chair and was laying on the floor, trying his best to take cover while still bound. Green and Burk were managing to return fire at this point.</p><p>"Tom!" Sasha indicated for him to crawl closer to her while she sprayed bullets rapid-fire to provide cover as he moved. Felt him tap her leg with his body once he'd reached her. "On my right hip!" Felt his hands fumble as he desperately tried to find the knife she was referring to. After a few clumsy seconds, he found it and unsheathed it, quickly cutting through his zip ties while she continued to provide cover fire.</p><p>"Thanks!" He moved quickly, grabbing a weapon, and settling back beside her to return fire. Tom made eye contact with Green, who was signaling that he had a path to go around and cut Giorgio and his men off from behind. He nodded silently at him—<em>Go. </em>From their position, they couldn't do much except provide cover. They were pinned down from all sides, protected only by this one console.</p><p>"This is familiar," he yelled, ducking down to check how many bullets he had left as round after round whizzed past their heads. She looked at him incredulously.</p><p>"Who the hell are these people!?" She could hear Lucia screaming at the Captain and Giorgio over the bullets about not letting Tom get away… She'd never seen a command so dis-organized in her life.</p><p>"I'm almost out!" he informed, tabling her question for later.</p><p>Sasha nodded, "Me too!"</p><p>Then, as quickly as it had started, they heard Green and Burk yell.</p><p>
  <em>"Clear!"</em>
</p><p>They sprang into action, she headed for Lucia, quickly firing a round at the Captain's head as he went to grab a gun and stood on Lucia's wrist as she tried to reach the same one. Sasha shook her head no at Lucia as she peered up at her from the floor. "Don't do it," she warned, kicking the gun out of reach and hauling her roughly to her feet. Sasha pushed her back into the chair. Burk moving Giorgio into the room, in the same manner, roughly forcing him to sit next to Lucia. Green grabbed new tethers, throwing one to Burk who caught it deftly and they secured their prisoners.</p><p>"Bastard," Lucia muttered at Green</p><p>"<em>This </em>is what the British threw away an Alliance for?" Sasha asked skeptically, still slightly breathless from the sudden bullet storm, not bothering to hide her complete astonishment. "A spoiled brat, and a guy that can't keep it in his pants even when he has a gun pointed at him?"</p><p>Burk snorted, Green laughed, and Tom dropped his chin but couldn't hide his amusement. She wasn't wrong.</p><p>"Fuck you, bitch," Lucia replied, spitting in her direction.</p><p>Sasha made a face of disgust before cocking her weapon and pointing it at her head again. "This is why children don't play war games," she said coolly, "they just end up as collateral damage." She tapped the barrel against Lucia's temple sadistically, driving her point home.</p><p>"<em>Hey! </em>You can't do that; we have rights! You Americans, you always play by the rules!" Giorgio spoke up—cocky as ever. Acting like he was invincible. Sasha turned her head to the side and smiled easily at him. "You're right!" she said brightly, too brightly, pulling the gun away and tucking it back on her hip.</p><p>"I heard Omar is looking for you," she said with faux positivity. Delighting in the way his face turned ashen, and his expression fell. "I heard…" she walked closer to him until she was kneeling before him, "that he wants his money, Giorgio. And I also heard that the last guy to not give Omar what he wants got skinned alive in our custody..." She made sure to look him up and down, returning the favor from earlier. Very slowly until her eyes settled on his crotch—indicating where Omar would likely start first.</p><p>Giorgio squirmed under her suggestion, eliciting the satisfaction she was looking for. "You can't do that." The panic was evident in his tone.</p><p>"Oh, I think we can," she said softly, winking once at him before standing back up and returning to the console. Briefly, she made eye contact with Tom as he watched her. Felt a pang in her heart for the emotion she saw there, the emotion he was no longer attempting to hide whenever he looked at her. Despire herself, Sasha gave him a small smirk, which he returned before they forced their faces back to neutral again.</p><p>Tom surveyed the room. There were bodies everywhere – Greek, British, Wilson. Looks like the trade was a moot point. He motioned to Green for his radio and caught it deftly when he threw it.</p><p>"Nathan James, this is Captain Chandler hailing you on Navy Red, over," he said.</p><p>Slattery looked up, surprise on his face, and walked over to the com. "Captain Chandler, this is Nathan James, it's good to hear your voice!"</p><p><em>"The British are dead; turned on the Greeks and died in the crossfire. We have Lucia and Giorgio Vellek in custody</em>—<em>Captain Stavros is dead. Requesting an exfil team to escort the prisoners back to the James while Cobra team searches the rest of the ship."</em></p><p>Mike looked at the Master Chief, registering surprise at the shit storm that had gone down. "Copy that, Cobra. Nathan James will send Nomad with re-enforcements. ETA, fifteen minutes, out." Mike confirmed, hanging up the phone.</p><p>"Get our bird in the Air, dispatch back-up team Bravo. And check in with our teams on the other ships!"</p><p>
  <em>"Aye, Sir! Nomad, you are requested to fly, wheels up in two minutes – dispatch rally team Bravo."</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha and Tom were standing side by side, hands resting on their rifles as they waited patiently for their back-up teams to arrive in-front of their prisoners. The way Lucia was staring at her was beginning to annoy her, but she said nothing. Chose to ignore it.</p><p>After several more minutes of thick, heavy silence, Lucia finally asked. "Is this her?"</p><p>Sasha frowned and glanced at Tom through her peripheral. He was staring at the Greek woman with a cold, detached expression on his face.</p><p>"Who?"</p><p><em>"Sasha," </em>she said in a mocking tone.</p><p>Sasha's brows rose, made a face of intrigue, turning her head to watch Tom's reaction.</p><p>He didn't miss a beat and remained perfectly stoic. "No," he lied readily and easily. Sasha was none of her business and he'd prefer to keep her vitriol directed solely at him.</p><p>Lucia rolled her eyes, not buying it. "He says your name in his sleep," she said turning back to Sasha. Trying to taunt one of them into a reaction.</p><p>Sasha mocked interest, "<em>Funny, </em>he's never mentioned you. Who exactly are you, again?" she answered, trivializing the remark.</p><p>Burk and Green laughed softly, shaking their heads. Not quite believing what was going on—only Tom Chandler could disappear for sixteen months and have two women posturing over him in the middle of a combat situation. Granted, one of them was crazy… and it wasn't Cooper.</p><p>"I'm the one he was sleeping with—" Lucia started but Giorgio made and noise, rolled his eyes, and interrupted her.</p><p>"You mean the one he <em>used</em> to get access to Dad's lab," he corrected. Lucia snapped her head at her brother, motioning for him to shut up, and he rolled his eyes.</p><p>Sasha couldn't hide the grin that was more of a regretful grimace, this family was like a soap opera, and she couldn't wait to get the hell off this ship. "Sounds nice" she added wryly, looking over at Tom, who had the decency to appear at best mortified that they were even being subjected to this kind of conversation in the middle of an op. She paced over to the window easily, keeping watch for Nomad while Tom turned slightly to assess the reactions from Green and Burk. They were doing their best to remain professional, but he could tell, especially by the way Green was smirking at him, that they found it pretty amusing.</p><p>Tom couldn't help but return an expression that silently let them know he wasn't oblivious to how surreal this was. One of those pinch-me moments. Something they'd probably joke about for years to come—sitting around bars or at reunions – he hoped at least. Hopes that one day, there would be an end to all this. A point in time where they all moved on from the loss and got back to living. He turned again, composed into perfect stoicism.</p><p>"Heads up," Sasha called.</p><p>"Green, Burk – take our prisoners to their transport—Cooper and I will keep the bridge secure until the back-up team arrives," he instructed softly.</p><p>"With pleasure, Sir," Burk confirmed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They headed below deck once Delta team reached the bridge, meeting back up with Burk and Green once the prisoners were securely en-route back to the James. They were sweeping rooms, one by one when they happened upon it. Tom's arm came up, a signal to stop as he heard movement around the corner. He drew his weapon, and they all followed his lead, silently falling into formation. Tom rounded the corner, gun pointed at the potential threat only to be astounded by what they found. Sasha, Burk, and Green all followed quickly, mirroring his amazement as they took it in.</p><p>Vellek's lab, right there in the middle of the ship. Sasha's mouth fell open slightly, and she looked at Tom, shaking her head at the stroke of divine luck that had landed it right within their grasp. Their guns came up quickly again as a figure rounded the corner. He was muttering to himself in a full-fledged conversation.</p><p>"Vellek," Tom confirmed and heard Sasha utter a soft <em>"huh"</em> sound.</p><p>"Unbelievable," she muttered, taking in the various plant specimens growing behind glass, the walls and walls of notations, calculations, and the man himself—so mentally loose that he hadn't even realized they were standing there as he talked to thin air that he kept calling Christos.</p><p>"He's insane!" Danny whispered, shocked that <em>this </em>was the man causing all of their troubles since finding the seeds.</p><p>Tom clutched the radio hooked to his chest. "Nathan James, this is Captain Chandler... we have Paul Vellek in our sights... You're gonna wanna send the Helo back," he spoke quietly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She was tired. Hadn't showered in 48 hours—rain didn't count. Couldn't remember the last time she ate. Felt like her life was one endless briefing, punctuated by getting shot at, betrayed, and watching people she cared about get maimed or killed on the way. They were back on the Nathan James. Their recovery teams gathering every last piece of data and intel from all four Greek ships before they dismantled them for good. Stiped all the parts they could use before sending the former crews on their way with no further objective than to go home. Their gear had been returned to the armory, but they were still dressed in their all-blacks, gathered around the table in the wardroom—yet again—reviewing research footage taken from Vellek's lab.</p><p>The man wanted to mentally castrate the human population because his son died. That was his big plan. It was so stupid; she couldn't even react.</p><p>
  <em>This.</em>
</p><p>This is what James had betrayed her for. This is what she'd killed him for.</p><p>This is what O'Connor and four other men had just died for.</p><p>This is what Burk's brother lost a leg for.</p><p>This is what the British had turned on them for.</p><p>The world really was lost.</p><p>Suddenly Sasha realized with a stinging level of clarity, that they weren't worth it—the Vellek's. The weight and burden of losses sustained could not be surpassed with their capture. Slowly she glanced over to Tom, who was already looking at her, he had been the whole time. Almost exclusively focused on her with a troubled expression twisting his handsome face as he watched the darkness cloud her.</p><p>She got it now. Why he left, and that scared her more than she was willing to admit.</p><p>Tom was absently running a hand over his jaw, as he sometimes did when he was caught somewhere between considering the information presented and distant un-related thoughts. Half-tuned in. "How were they planning to distribute the "cure" once they engineered it into the seeds?" he asked, finally taking his eyes off Sasha to engage again.</p><p>"That's what we're still trying to figure out, would be a lot easier if our prisoners felt like cooperating, but we have Doc Rios studying the files right now. Has to be something of use." Mike answered.</p><p>Tom nodded. "And the British?"</p><p>Mike shrugged, a physical gesture that clearly communicated what they all knew—the Brits were shit out of luck. President Oliver was no longer interested in cooperating with the former allies after the stunt they'd pulled. "We plan to share a copy of these videos—" his head inclined upwards towards the screen where Vellek was still displayed mid-rant, "so they can see exactly what they chose," he added nonchalantly.</p><p>Tom smiled slightly, imagining their reaction when they reviewed the footage and the reality of the political shitstorm they'd unleashed upon themselves sunk in. Mike caught it and returned the shit-eating grin, nodding his head at Tom before composing himself and getting back down to business. "For now, I want every available body going through this research. I want to know how, when, and who. That is all." He ended the meeting, hitting the remote to turn off the screen.</p><p>Everyone shuffled out of the room in short order but Sasha stayed in her seat like she hadn't even heard. Hadn't moved an inch. She was just staring at the center of the table, playing absently with a pen.</p><p>Tom hesitated, truth be told, he didn't know this Sasha. He'd never seen her like this, usually, she burned bright. Her ever keen eyes always working, always knowing, always seeing. That subtle bravado and sweet charm wrapped into one beautiful controlled package, so perfect that even men like he were intimidated by it. He'd been watching her for at least five minutes, and she hadn't even bothered to acknowledge.</p><p>
  <em>"Sasha..."</em>
</p><p>The pen dropped abruptly, loud on the table in the silence between them. Tom took it as an indication that she wasn't interested in hearing what he had to say. She looked up at him lazily, swinging the chair around. "All this…" she started, trailing off, licked her lips while she shook her head. Struggling to find words to put to it. He heard her inhale. Watched as she stood slowly, none of the usual strength in her posture while she continued to gaze at him despondently. "It's not worth it," she finally decided, an unpleasant expression on her face, as if she'd just smelled something rotting.</p><p>Tom searched her eyes; lips parted slightly—inhaled while his mind scrambled to find something that would bring her back. Fix whatever this was she was feeling, but she'd already dropped her head and was leaving. Didn't bother to close the door behind her. Tom let out the breath he didn't know he was holding, it resounded in the empty room. Fell forward until his elbows leaned against the table to hold himself up. The layers of fatigue and stress pushed down on him down like a brick, the failures, and regrets. He could see she was drowning and he didn't know how to save her.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>It continued on like this for two days.</p><p>She stayed up for hours, reviewing more than her share of research either in the canteen, wardroom, or her stateroom. Cold and indifferent every time he tried to reach her. Likely he was the problem, but he'd always been able to get through to her before - they'd always had something, couldn't remember a single interaction they'd had since the day they met where he hadn't felt it. The pull. Sasha was like gravity to him, and he couldn't just let her fade away.</p><p>They were still scrambling to locate a secure plane or airstrip that could deliver the seeds to the States. They were running out of time. A trip back would take two-weeks at least by sea, but they still had to drop off the refugees. They were also beginning to see that some of the data they needed was missing. They didn't have the entire picture yet, and with the added delays, the risk vs. reward just didn't pan out in their favor. They'd transmitted everything they had to their best scientists and they still needed more. The last place it could be was Giorgio's mansion, so that's precisely where they were headed.</p><p>It should have been a simple in-and-out mission. There were a few guards, which they'd easily slipped around. Tom had led them straight to the room, it had taken them less than five minutes to find the hidden switch for the server, and Sasha had transmitted the data to the James. All their troubles began when they were just trying to get to the extraction point. Omar's guys stormed the compound. They were looking for Giorgio.</p><p><em>"Americans, I have no quarrel with you</em>—\<em>I just want what is owed to me!"</em></p><p>"Giorgio's not here, you can search the house yourself!" Chandler responded.</p><p>
  <em>"I already know that. You have him on your ship, Captain!"</em>
</p><p>Tom turned and looked trepidatiously behind him, Sasha was closing her eyes in frustration, anticipating exactly where this was headed.</p><p>
  <em>"I believe we can help each other Captain. You need an airstrip, and I have one in Tripoli that I am more than happy to provide" Omar continued.</em>
</p><p>"<em>Tom,</em>" Sasha called sharply, he turned to her, "you make a deal with the Devil and we <em>all</em> get burned," she warned. If there's one thing she knew, it was Omar – and he'd take his bounty while selling them out to the highest bidder once they hit that airstrip—<em>she knew it. </em>She tilted her head at him, urged him to listen. Tom pondered her for a few moments before giving a small nod, he trusted her judgment—always had, and she'd never steered him wrong.</p><p>"You know I can't do that" Tom yelled in response. Sasha visibly relaxed.</p><p>
  <em>"Well then, I'm afraid it seems we are at an impasse, Captain."</em>
</p><p>Tom gestured for Green and Burk to go around, find a position that gave them a better vantage point. Green nodded and gave hand commands to Burk who took off in the other direction.</p><p>"Miller, Azima, Wolf," Tom whispered, pointing them in three different directions. They nodded their confirmation and moved on command. Sasha didn't need to be told, she knew she was with him. She always was, he wouldn't let anyone else watch her back if he was there. Sasha crouched down and readied her weapon getting ready to move on his command.</p><p>His hand came up, three fingers held up clearly for all teams to see.</p><p>3…2…1…</p><p>"<em>Move!"</em></p><p>Azima, Miller, and Wolf threw grenades while Burk and Green used the distraction to burst up from their positions, firing with precision at Omar's men as they swarmed the pool-deck. Tom stepped forward, leaving the corner, and started firing. Sasha fell into position. They worked their way in a line formation, efficiently covering and attacking targets from every angle, she covered their back whilst he covered their front. They made it to Azima and crouched down again behind cover. Using the opportunity to re-load their weapons.</p><p>"Go," Tom commanded.</p><p>They started the movement again, this time Azima trailing Sasha in third position – now she covered their rear while Tom and Sasha progressed them forward. They repeated the strategy until they picked up Wolf and Miller. Green and Burk ran over, joining the end of the chain once they'd reached the stairs that led away from the mansion. They'd almost made it free and clear when Tom heard it. The scream of pain. His eyes immediately found the threat—one of Giorgio's men who'd appeared dead had pulled a gun from the ground. Tom neutralized him quickly and looked back at her, icy hot panic threaded through his veins and heart hammering. She was still standing. <em>Thank god she was standing.</em></p><p>"Where?" he called, failing to hide the panic in his tone. Turned his head back and scanned for any other missed threats while she moved into a safer position.</p><p>"My arm, I'm fine," she shouted back. Tom hung back until the team managed to descend the steps before following them down.</p><p><em>"Nathan James, this is Vulture team, be advised we're coming in hot, Cooper's been hit. Requesting fire support," </em>he yelled into his mic.</p><p>Mike's face registered shock back on the Bridge of the James. "Roger that, Vulture Team. Nathan James will assist," he picked up the internship phone. "CIC, Bridge - get me a lock on that house and ready the 5-inch."</p><p>"<em>Aye, Sir, readying the 5-inch."</em></p><p>The bullets were still flying as they jogged down the dirt path that led to their exfil point. Sasha could feel the blood trickling down her sleeve, her arm beginning to throb wildly as she tried to maintain a solid grip on her gun. Her muscles were screaming under the weight. The pain causing a steady cold sweat to begin clamming her skin. <em>Only a mile to go</em>, she told herself.</p><p>Tom could see she was struggling, could see the way her muscles began to shake with the strain, her lips were pale. Brow furrowed. "How's that arm?" he asked, jogging up beside her.</p><p>"I'm good" she deflected, and he had to clench his jaw to stop himself from lecturing her. Her tone made it clear that she wouldn't let him help her. Wouldn't let him take her gun. There was nothing he could do for her except get them to the RHIB and off this island. Half a mile down, an explosion let them know that Nathan James had fired upon the mansion. The bullets finally stopped.</p><p>"Man, I love that ship!" Green hollered.</p><p>By the time they finally reached the RHIB, she could barely lift her weapon high enough to get into the boat. Tom came up behind her and reached over, wordlessly he pulled the strap over her head, and threw it over his shoulder instead. Securing it at his back along with his. He was done with the stubborn. She was in a lot of pain and he could see it, enough that she didn't trust herself to protest without vomiting. Tom didn't bother letting her climb in herself either, which she was loathe to admit, but appreciated when he jumped in and bent down, catching her by the waist and hoisting her over with one arm, while she grabbed onto the neck of his vest. Tom couldn't help but notice how much lighter she felt than he remembered.</p><p>Wolf was already pulling a field dressing from his pocket, handed it to Tom. He used his knife to cut the fabric of her shirt to get a better look, she was covered in coagulated blood and it was still oozing out, the skin already starting to bruise around the entry point. It looked like it was through and through – she'd live. Tom wrapped the bandage around, fastening it tightly which elicited a flinch from her.</p><p>"Sorry," he muttered, catching her eyes, they were cloudy, not as sharp or focused as they should have been. Told himself that's why he lingered longer than he should have when it was done. Maintaining some kind of contact with her for as long as he could. Couldn't help it – the amount of panic that had surged through his body when she screamed was still raging in his veins.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He was hovering.</p><p>She hoped he wasn't about to lose his mind again, but at this point, she was pretty sure she'd lost hers. Sasha was resting in the med-bay, all bandaged up and full of painkillers – good ones. Doc Rios made quick work of cleaning her up, gave her a local before stitching. Bullet holes when clean were remarkably easy to handle. For now, the pain had subsided into a dull throb and uncomfortable tightness. Days two through four were always worse, she had that to look forward to she supposed.</p><p>Tom was leaning against a cart, legs crossed in front of him and arms folded over his abdomen. He was staring at her, and she was refusing to engage—Rios had left as quickly as possible because the tension was thick. The curtain rustled and a crewman cleared his throat.</p><p>"Excuse me, Sir—from Captain Slattery," he said handing Tom a file.</p><p>Tom took it and nodded at the sailor to dismiss him. He flicked it open, not missing the way she straightened in the bed, testing to see if she could read any of it from her position. If he was feeling more agreeable, he'd find it cute, but right now he was mentally replaying the moment she'd been shot. Wondering how he could possibly have missed the guard and let her get hit. Tom snapped it closed, his stance made it clear that he didn't care for whatever it said.</p><p>"The Vellek's are willing to talk in exchange for leniency but <em>Lucia</em> will only speak with me," he summarized for her. Sasha's lips quirked downwards, he couldn't tell if she was amused at his misfortune or pissed at hearing Lucia's name. Maybe both.</p><p>"Hell hath no fury," she commented dryly.</p><p>He'd expected this to come up at some point. "It was one night, and it was a means to an end," he explained cautiously. Sasha raised her eyebrows and moved her head sideways. Never a good omen and he started mentally preparing himself for whatever it was she was about to say.</p><p>
  <em>One night.</em>
</p><p>She scoffed, "Sounds familiar," fixing him with an icy glare. "Is that what I was? A means to an end?" Pinning him with her eyes.</p><p>When Sasha was hurt, she lashed out. Tom <em>knew</em> this, he'd been walking on eggshells around her for almost a month now. One minute she was thawing, the next the ice was back, colder and thicker than ever, but it was the uncertainty he saw lurking behind her bravado that made him ill. Made him feel dirty. Like he'd violated her. Sasha watched his entire expression change, his body language and stance softening completely until his brows had furrowed deeply, and a look crossed his face like he couldn't believe she'd even consider that.</p><p>"<em>Never</em>," he swore with complete sincerity. Her eyes faltered, studying his face. "Sasha, you were like coming home," his voice sounded pained. Like he couldn't stand that she'd insinuated she meant that little to him. That he'd use her for sex. She broke eye contact and he saw her expression change, replacing itself with fatigue—a tinge of regret. She closed her eyes and shook her head.</p><p>"I didn't mean that," she confessed. It was her incessant need to crucify him for leaving. It was pushing her in circles. <em>Let it go</em>, she told herself for the hundredth time. It was clear he hated himself enough, she didn't need to keep exploiting it. Keep digging the knife deeper - at this point, she was just cutting them both. In her heart, she knew Tom had never used her, he loved her... he'd just broken, and she'd been caught by the shrapnel.</p><p>"I deserved it," he answered easily. Too easy, because he believed that he did.</p><p>"No, you didn't," she said shaking her head, her eyes apologetic. Tom let the comment slide, couldn't shake the idea that he was missing something here. Something about the way Mike had punched him, nothing pulled about it, and said '<em>that was for her' </em>had been percolating for weeks now.</p><p>"I gotta talk to Mike—you'll be ok?"</p><p>She nodded. "I'm fine," confirming it once again for him. It was the fourth time he'd asked. Tom hovered a little bit longer before walking away, her eyes following him as he left.</p><p>Sasha slumped back onto the cot and ran a hand through her hair.</p><p>
  <em>This goddamned game.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Captain on the Bridge!" a crewman announced.</p><p>Mike nodded at him in greeting "how's our wounded?" It had been a few hours since they'd made it back, Tom had showered and changed in-between leaving the med-bay and coming to the bridge.</p><p>"She'll be fine, it was through and through—missed everything major."</p><p>"Good," Mike answered, satisfied. Tom appeared to be taking the fact that she'd been shot a lot better than expected. That was an encouraging sign.</p><p>"Can I talk to you for a second?"</p><p>Mike raised a confused eyebrow before gesturing his head towards the door. "<em>Capin' Meylan</em>, Ship's yours,'" he announced as he followed Tom out onto bridge wing.</p><p>"What's going on?" Mike asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the crew; could already tell this wasn't about Lucia's request.</p><p>"What exactly happened, while I was gone?" he got right to it. Mike pondered for a few moments; he had a good idea of what Tom was asking, but he needed to be sure.</p><p>"What do you mean?" he played dumb.</p><p>Tom stared at him intensely, letting him know he wasn't playing around. "Back in Greece, when we were fighting—you said, '<em>that was for her' </em>what did you mean?"</p><p>Mike sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation, but he knew Tom, and he knew he wasn't going to let this go. Not until he got answers. "<em>Look,</em>" he started, his voice low. Mike checked again to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse about yourself, I know if I'd been able to contact you, you would have come back," he prefaced, "but when you left, you <em>broke </em>her."</p><p>Tom swallowed. Blinked. He'd heard that before, from Jeter—only he'd been talking about the crew as a whole.</p><p>"We couldn't get her off the bridge deck for twelve hours, Doc Rios said she had some kind of catatonic breakdown."</p><p>Tom sucked in a breath. Recoiling slightly. <em>What</em>?</p><p>"She barely ate, barely slept. Must have lost about twenty pounds... it took me three months just to get her to talk to me about anything other than work," Mike said exasperated. "I caught her at that spot," Mike gestured to the deck, the last place she'd been when he'd disembarked, "every-night for a year before she finally stopped."</p><p>Tom could feel moisture pooling in his eyes, his temples throbbed from how tightly clenched his jaw was. Bowing his head, he looked at the floor. Couldn't look at Mike right now, couldn't look at anything. He'd just been fucking gutted alive. Mike heard the way he cleared his throat, heard the sniff. Felt the shame, guilt, and self-loathing permeating from his friend in waves.</p><p>Mike sighed and clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing it slightly. He wasn't trying to harp on the guy, but if it helped shed some light on why she was so withdrawn, maybe it would help both of them in the long term. Silently, Mike stepped back into the pilot house to give Tom space to collect himself.</p><p>
  <em>Why the fuck hadn't he just called?</em>
</p><p>Tom leaned forward using the railing to support his weight. He clasped his hands in front of him while his elbows rested on the railing—took several shuddering breaths, he was trying desperately to keep it together. To shove it down. That's what he did, just kept packing, and packing it in—every failure, every regret, every loss. He pushed it away—until he <em>couldn't</em> anymore. His ears were ringing. His pulse racing. The pain in his heart working its way steadily through his body until he could feel it in the palms of his hands radiating. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to stare up at the stars instead. Looking for answers that he knew just didn't exist. Those hands moved to clamp the railing instead, so hard his knuckles turned white while a few tears finally broke free and slipped down his cheeks. Tom squeezed his eyes shut again.</p><p>
  <em>He hated himself.</em>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom wasn't sure how long he'd stood out there, but he knew it was late because the crew had thinned out. Significantly. He needed to find her. He couldn't do this anymore—watch her slowly self-destruct, have her hurt anymore because of him. Because of what he'd done. Mike had quietly let him know that she'd been working in the mess since dinner and was still there, so that's where he went.</p><p>"You've been at this all night," he said stepping into the empty room, he watched as she picked up various pieces of paper. He sounded tired, stressed – like them all. There was an edge though, in his voice that she couldn't quite place. She didn't bother to look up. "You should eat while there's still food left to eat."</p><p>"You can give my portion away." An easy deflection while she switched out one of the papers and scribbled a note.</p><p>"You need to eat," he tried again. She ignored him. Another scribble. Acted like he wasn't even there. "You've lost weight," he pressed.</p><p>Sasha <em>knew </em>that, she was down to the last hole on her belt. If she lost any more, she'd have to fashion herself a new one with a knife. She sighed in frustration and finally looked up, putting the papers down. Clearly, he wasn't going away, or taking a hint. The annoyance was replaced with concern the moment she saw his face. It looked like he'd been crying, his eyes were bloodshot, extremely blue, and the tip of his nose red. Frankly, he looked devastated. Heartbroken. An immediate and uncomfortable panic washed over her that someone had died, someone extremely important, were his kids ok? Before she could ask, he sat down.</p><p>"We need to talk." It was rasped. Her eyes searched his, anxiety making her heart hammer in her chest, nothing good ever came of that statement.</p><p>Her back straightened in the chair, "<em>Okay</em>," she breathed. Silently urging him to spit it out because she couldn't deal with the anxiety much longer.</p><p>"Mike told me what happened. After I left," he started, his voice gentle in a way that was already making her soul ache. Immediately, Sasha felt her ears get hot. She wasn't ready to have this conversation, it wasn't Mike's place to share that with him. Didn't know that she'd ever intended to share it with him at all for that matter.</p><p>"Don't blame him—I pressed him for it." He stopped her before she could even start.</p><p>Sahsa started to chew the inside of her mouth. Tom looked at her for several moments, lips parted slightly as he struggled to find words to explain how sorry he was, how much he regretted leaving her that way. She couldn't shake the feeling of de-ja-vu, had only ever seen him look this heartbroken one time in her life... when she'd told him to stop proposing because she couldn't say yes. The memory still hurt.</p><p>"If I had <em>any</em> idea, that I'd hurt you this much—" he started, pausing because those words were inadequate, didn't even begin to express what he was trying to say. She looked down slowly, swallowing. Decided in that moment that she needed to stop punishing him. As much for herself as for him.</p><p>"I know," she cut him off softly. <em>He never would have left.</em></p><p>Honestly, why would he know? She'd told him she didn't want to marry him. She'd broken his heart—yes, they'd collided fourteen years later, eluded to still caring deeply for each-other through actions and looks, but it's not like she'd verbalized it. Their time spent together in Asia didn't equate to her having a breakdown if he left. Not from where he was standing, and her track record, she could see that.</p><p>Sasha hadn't told him. Hadn't explained how much she'd been struggling too with everything that had happened. That she woke up in cold sweats, smelling bodies. That she was killing herself inside daily. That she wasn't as calculated, and hard as she'd been before. That she still carried the scars of leaving him, and she'd harbored that pain for years before she'd let go emotionally. Allowed herself to actually marry someone else. She hadn't told him what seeing him again, being around him again did to her. Hell, she hadn't even told him how deeply she'd fallen the first time—as far as Tom knew, she'd simply not seen a future for them. And the last conversation they'd had twelve years prior? Well, she'd told him she was glad he'd moved on and was happy for the birth of his daughter. In his mind, she thought of him like a hot tryst, it was fun while it lasted – but got too serious for her. There were moments though—moments where he was convinced she just didn't know how to commit. Moments where he was sure that hadn't been wrong.</p><p>"I didn't stop you from proposing because I didn't love you or want you," she started softly, raising her eyes again to watch his reaction. Tom looked surprised. They were finally going to talk about it… about <em>them.</em> Why she'd left him with little to no explanation and completely broken his heart. Requested a transfer and been gone not two-weeks later after he'd told her how serious he was. How he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It had destroyed him at the time.</p><p>He waited for her to continue.</p><p>"I didn't want kids, Tom—I was so young. I still had my whole life ahead of me—a career," she elaborated. He nodded softly, in his hours of soul searching he'd realized it, but he would have waited for her to be ready if she'd just communicated with him. Had gone in circles over it for months after she'd left.</p><p>"I knew you'd wait for me. I knew you'd say you could live without them if it meant keeping me—I couldn't do that to you," she continued, turning her head to the side while her brows furrowed with sincerity. "I couldn't take away your career, and, not give you children. That's not fair, and I didn't want you to resent me. I didn't want you to wake up fifteen years later and realize what a mistake you'd made. That's not what you do when you love someone—so I left." She swallowed. "I didn't want you to fight for me because I would have said yes, I would have married you, Tom. I loved you more than I even understood... It was easier for you to think I didn't want you, and I transferred because I knew I'd never be able to stay away from you." Sasha paused, taking a moment to consider her next words and let it sink in.</p><p>Tom dropped his eyes, considering her confession. Deep pangs of regret working through his heart because he realized now that he almost had her. He hadn't been crazy, all she had to do was talk to him and he would have been spared the suffering he went through. Though he couldn't change it now, he knew that.</p><p>She let out a soft chuckle. "When I found out you'd married Darien, I cried for three days straight," smiling sadly, Tom looked up at her again, that had been almost two years later. "Tub of ice cream and all," she added, a wry smirk playing at her lips—trying to lighten the mood. Relieved when some spark came back to his eyes, some of the heavy sadness lifted.</p><p>His voice was soft and tender when he spoke, "I had no idea." By that time he'd managed to put some of his heart back together, had moved on. Still loved her though, was beginning to see that he'd never really stopped. Just accepted that they wouldn't be together and let it morph from active into something tucked into the back of his heart. From <em>in love</em> to, love from afar, wish the best for.</p><p>"Why would you?" she asked, raising her eyebrows slightly. "It's not like I ever told you how I felt or explained myself. When we ran into each other at that ceremony I acted like it was fine. Why would you think differently?" Tom couldn't disagree with that.</p><p>But still, he should have been more considerate. He was an adult, not a child – he shouldn't have run and left her hanging, she deserved better than that. Regardless of how she felt about him, <em>he</em> loved her, and that wasn't how he was raised. Jed Chandler would be ashamed of him for treating her, and his crew so callously.</p><p>"I should have called," the regret and guilt heavy in his voice.</p><p>"Yes," she agreed. "But I understand that you couldn't." Tom looked at her skeptically, didn't really understand it himself, so how could she? "You can thank Mike for that too," she elaborated. His eyes narrowed slightly again, and he reached forward, taking her left hand between both of his delicately. Looked at her intently, completely sincerely before he spoke.</p><p>"I love you, Sasha—I am so sorry, for everything."</p><p>She turned her head to the side and smiled sweetly at him, every resentment, every hint of anger gone from her eyes, and she reached over with her right hand. Touched his cheek softly with her fingers. "I have loved you since that day in the mess with Wegner. And I don't think I've ever stopped."</p><p>The surge of emotion in his heart shocked him with its intensity. The merging of past and present, the culmination of seemingly random events that led him back to this point, almost eighteen years later, sat before the first women he'd ever wanted to spend the rest of his life with. "It's nice to finally hear you admit it," he spoke softly, looking at her in that special way that had made her heart sing from the very first time she'd seen it. Her thumb rubbed his skin in small back and forth motions for a moment more, touching his dimple before she bought it back, placing it on top of their conjoined hands.</p><p>"I'm sorry too, Tom." Tears suddenly shining in those piercing eyes, her lip trembled. "I never wanted to hurt you, I just didn't know how to—"</p><p><em>"I know,"</em> he soothed, squeezing the hand in his palm. "I forgave you the night of that ceremony—I saw." A moment where Tom finally understood that he might never know her motivations—might never discover the why behind her deep-rooted need to keep running, to hide from real emotional intimacy, and he'd realized with a kind of stark clarity and acceptance that he loved her regardless. Exactly the way she was. Believed all she needed was someone with enough patience and follow through to get her to trust. In the past, he'd believed himself the right person, and despite everything, he still believed that now.</p><p>"Maybe we'll get our fresh start after all?" Her eyes twinkled at him then, how they used to when life was simpler, and his only worry was how to make sure he could spend the rest of his life with her. She'd never looked more beautiful, felt a knot in his throat that he swallowed against.</p><p>Tom brought their conjoined hands up to his lips, kissed the top of hers, and made her a promise. "Once this over."</p><p>Sasha tightened her lips, becoming overwhelmed by how much hope she felt swelling in her heart. Couldn't quite believe that might really get their third shot at this, realized that she wanted nothing else. They sat together in silence for a while, enjoying each other's company, holding hands until she felt him rotate his wrist slightly to glance at his watch.</p><p>He smiled sweetly at her, and she was confused until he spoke. "Happy Birthday." She blinked. <em>Huh. </em>She'd completely forgotten, November 18th. "Hold old are you now?" There was humor in his voice, she was 39, he knew that.</p><p>"Why, looking to trade me in for a younger model?"</p><p>Tom made a face like she was insane, "Way too much work."</p><p>She chuckled. Squeezed his hand. "Thank you," she said seriously, felt him rub his thumb against her palm. "You wanna know what I want?" Tom inclined his head softly to indicate, yes. "Stop blaming yourself," she whispered.</p><p>His face fell slightly, suddenly unable to hold her gaze any longer and he looked down, studying their hands. Though he believed it impossible, rarely had he ever been able to deny her anything. "I'll try," he settled for after several moments, meeting her gaze again, his expression open—honest.</p><p>Sasha scrunched her nose at him affectionately, and his heart fluttered—he'd forgotten the way she did that, how much he'd always loved it. "That's all I can ask," she said simply, stroking the skin below her fingers again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I found something!" Sasha strode onto the bridge with a map in her hands. Tom, Mike, and Meylan all spun around and joined her at a console. She placed it down and pointed, "They were planning to take the first batch of cure to an airstrip in Malta, when they got there, British, and Russian forces were going to distribute it in three different planes."</p><p>"Unbelievable." Mike shook his head. The British and the Russians in bed together—against them. Never thought he'd see the day.</p><p>"I thought the same thing myself," Sasha added with a wry quirk of her brow while tipping her head to the side to accentuate her point.</p><p>"Well, we know what we have to do," Tom said, moving his eyes from the map to Sasha's. "We need to take that airfield."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>November 22nd, 2015—10 hours until mission.</strong>
</p><p>"<em>Fletcher," she warned. He held the seeds in his hand, his intent clear as day. He was jumping </em><em>and if she didn't stop him, the world would starve.</em></p><p>
  <em>Bang.</em>
</p><p><em>His body crumpled to the floor, only it looked different the longer she stared at it, taller, more statuesque.</em> <em>She moved forward, bile in her throat, to turn the body over. E</em><em>yes stared blankly back at her, blue, not brown, a bullet hole from her gun in the center of his forehead.</em></p><p>She rose sharply in the bed, a gasp echoing through the room. Took her a few moments of panic to remember—<em>it's just a dream. </em>The same one she'd been having every night since killing James. Sasha closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, sinking back down onto the mattress. Waited for her heart rate to return to normal, after a brief glance at the clock which told her it was 0138 hours. A hand came up to scrub at her face, she'd only managed to get an hour of sleep. It was past the point of exhaustion, her eyes burned because they were so dry and fatigued. The room swayed as if she'd just flown for 24 hours when she laid still, thoughts reaching the point of delirium. Reaching the point where she couldn't fight anymore, not on her own. Sasha made her decision and got out of bed.</p><p>Didn't even bother to change clothes from the sweatpants and oversized sweater she'd bartered at a market a few months back. She knew how to avoid people in the short distance between their rooms. Tom stirred immediately when she slipped in without knocking, a reflex he'd learned years before the Red-Flu, from his days as a SEAL.</p><p>"It's just me," Sasha whispered—heard him exhale as he relaxed. She shrugged the boots she'd thrown on her feet off.</p><p>"You okay?" his voice was low, warm, and thick with sleep.</p><p>"No, but I will be," she answered honestly.</p><p>When she reached his bed, she found he'd already pushed himself against the wall to make room for her and had lifted the covers—waiting for her to get in. The lump in her throat surged. Hadn't realized she was shivering until his warmth enveloped her, frigid toes tangling between his feet without thought, and Tom felt the resurgence of memories with a force that shocked him. As if it were yesterday that he used to sleep beside her. The feel of her body against his, how she slept cold and unconsciously sought him out throughout the night.</p><p>"You wanna talk about it?"</p><p>Sasha felt him stroke her hair affectionately, she shook her head, "No."</p><p>"Can I do anything?" he tried instead, his hand stilling its movement.</p><p>There was a moment of hesitation, one where she considered the ramification of being this vulnerable with him before they'd even sorted through their shit. The dangers of getting too attached again when there was no guarantee of anything. The fear that she'd find herself needing him, and be disappointed yet again. "Hold me?" it was quiet, almost whispered, but he heard it, and he didn't need her to ask twice.</p><p>Tom adjusted the pillow, put it over his left arm so they could both share it while she turned and he pulled her against him flush. As close as he could get her. Snuck his right hand under the hem of her sweater, wide palm splaying her stomach before traveling up and resting comfortably on her rib cage—right below her breast. His thumb started moving back and forth absently stroking the soft skin. She already felt better, like he was chasing the chill from inside her, not just the one on her skin. He could feel her relaxing, the tension seeping away, and despite himself, he couldn't help but place a kiss at the back of her head. Couldn't stop himself from nuzzling his nose and inhaling. The familiarity wreaking havoc with his emotions—home. He was home, again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>So, this is what it was like for him then. She was pacing the CIC watching the sat feed as Vulture Team surrounded the airfield. She was chewing her lip, biting her nails—the nervous energy upsetting her already very empty stomach. Sasha knew it was him the second Mike announced the play for the mission and her name had been left <em>off</em> the list of ground operators. She'd looked at him sharply across the table and been met with that same rebellious stare—the one that said <em>try me</em>. She'd been shot, she wasn't sleeping, she was 20 lbs. underweight, and frankly he wouldn't be able to concentrate on the mission if she tried to fight in a condition like that. Like it or not—it was better she stayed on the ship, for everyone involved.</p><p>He'd take mad over dead every day of the week.</p><p>For her part, she'd been trying desperately to scramble additional resources in, and around their position. Omar had survived the blast and beaten them to it, squeezed them out of every single option to refuel, re-supply, or find support in the region. This airfield and military base was their last shot, they couldn't make it back to the states without it. The seeds were the only reason they were still alive. Even if they negotiated a trade, the second they handed over their advantage—they'd be dead. Whether by Omar, the British, the Russians, or rebel Greeks… it didn't matter. This was a dog eat dog world—the old rules no longer applied. People were starving and the fewer mouths to feed the better. They were in this alone.</p><p>"Nathan James, Vulture Team is in position." His voice crackled over the comms.</p><p>Sasha closed her eyes, said a quick prayer to the universe. "Copy that, Vulture Team, good luck," she responded—at least Mike had given her <em>something </em>to do, even if it was as small as manning the comms. She needed something, anything to make her feel like she was out there beside him—beside them—where she was supposed to be. Folding her arms across her chest again, she fought against the feeling in her gut that wouldn't let her be. Tried to ignore the knowledge that her gut was never wrong.</p><p>All sixteen of their available mountain-warfare personnel, bar her, were out there. Hardly a fair fight against a compound of two different militaries—but they'd faced worse odds in the past. '<em>Nothing's impossible, not if you have the will, the courage, and a good plan.' Tom</em> could only hope his words held true now. Tom looked at them all. Green, Burk, Miller, Wolf, Azima… and they looked back at him, ready to serve. Ready to fight by his side.</p><p>Nodding once, he commanded, "Let's go," and they executed their mission.</p><p>Sasha watched as each team moved. It was a textbook attack formation, most of the foreign soldiers were pilots—hopefully not skilled ground combatants or that strong with tactics. For the first few minutes, it was flawless. Flawless until she spotted heat signatures from left field on their six—she squinted and moved closer to the screen. The way these bodies moved was different, very specific, and in patterns that paralleled their own.</p><p>
  <em>Special forces.</em>
</p><p>A wave of adrenaline. Her eyes flew the air tower. "<em>Shit!" </em>she exclaimed, scrambling over to the radio.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Miller cried out as a shot tore through his leg. Tom, Burk, and Green ducked—looked wildly around for where the hell the shot had come from. Tom grimace—the tower.</p><p>"<em>Vulture Team, you have a sniper in the tower!" she said urgently.</em></p><p>Too late. All hell broke loose, the sniper started firing at will—had a vantage point of the entire airfield. Her coms lit up like a Christmas tree.</p><p>"<em>Mother, be advised we have one eagle wounded</em>—<em>status unknown!"</em></p><p>"<em>We are taking sniper fire from the tower!"</em></p><p>"I'm going in for him!" Green yelled.</p><p>"No, that sniper's just waiting for us to move! Plus, we don't know what the hell they got behind that truck!" Burk replied.</p><p>"Hey, you either cover me or you don't!"</p><p>"The second you move your white ass, they gonna take him out!" Burk argued.</p><p>"Green, he's right!" Tom yelled, pinned behind a different crate parallel to their position but separated by wide-open asphalt, straight in the sniper's path.</p><p>"On three!" Green ignored them both.</p><p>"I swear to God, Danny!" Burk shouted.</p><p>"One, Two!"</p><p>"Danny!" Tom tried.</p><p>It was no use, he was running towards Miller.</p><p>"God! Damn it!" Burk and Tom shouted in unison, coming up from their positions to provide cover support while trying not to get their heads blown off.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"<em>Mother, we are surrounded, I have two confirmed K.I.A, one wounded… I can't move! We are pinned down!"  </em>another urgent cry. Sasha's eyes were rapidly shifting from side to side, breathing harshly and in quick succession as she watched in horror as each of their teams were pinned. Saw the bodies of the dead already on the ground—it was a fucking firing hall. A slaughterhouse. Sasha ripped the headset off her head and sprinted up the Bridge.</p><p>"Make way!" she called, as she bumped past sailors. Mike was already waiting for her when she rounded the corner. His eyes reflecting the horror she felt. "Our teams being slaughtered out there," she warned, pointing vaguely in the direction of Malta.</p><p>"I already set a course, all ahead flank" he started.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Green cried out, a bullet ripping through the side of his chest where the tac vest missed coverage.</p><p>"Danny!" Tom yelled, he stood and charged at the tower, firing rapidly at the glass to try to hit the sniper—pain seared through his leg. He cried out and fell to his knees.</p><p>"Captain!" Burk called.</p><p>"I'm fine, get Green!" he said strained, dragging himself back behind cover, only to get shot again, this time close to his hip. Felt some bone shatter, and he wasn't able to stop the cry of agony as that bullet tore through him. Nor the harsh and cold realization that there was no way out of this. They were pinned and they weren't getting out of here alive.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"<em>Be advised, sniper is still active, we can't target</em>—<em>Miller, Green, and Capin' Chandler are down hard! We need to get them exfil, ASAP!" </em>Burks labored voice rang out.</p><p>Sasha sucked in in a breath, her mouth making small fish-like motions as she tried not to hyperventilate. "<em>Mike,"</em> the way she was looking at him, the tone in her voice... well, he didn't know how to describe it, he just knew. If he didn't let her go—she was going to try and fly their helicopter to Tom on her own. Her eyes were pleading with him, <em>begging him</em> not to force her hand. Sasha was ready to shoot her way through him if she had to, and that thought scared her.</p><p>The silence stretched, filled only by the sounds of continuous gunfire, of their men crying out over the radio their wounded and dead.</p><p>This was it. This was really it. It had come to this. Mike nodded at her, could see that she wouldn't let anyone stop her—he knew what he needed to do. "Go." She wasted no time before sprinting out of the room to get a vest, and her sniper rifle. "Master Chief, there's no way we can exfil Vulture Team by ourselves—I need an extraction team."</p><p>Russ nodded quickly once. It was time. He took a breath before picking up the ship's com. "Attention all hands, this is your Master Chief. At this very moment, our ship's most capable operators are pinned down in one hell of a fight. We have wounded, and they are unable to exfil—that airstrip is our only way home, but we're <em>not</em> done here. We can still fight! Our Captain needs volunteers to join him in taking that airstrip and bringing our crew home. Anyone willing to lay their lives on the line, muster in the Helo bay in five minutes. That is all." He hung up the phone.</p><p>Mike slammed his hand on the console, it was a solid speech. Turned to follow Cooper to the Helo, no time for goodbyes, he was needed. Gator ran to him.</p><p>"Sir, permission to join the rescue party," asked in earnest.</p><p>Mike gave him a nod, grabbed his shoulder, "Move!"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Burk was trying his best, but he could feel the despair pressing down on him as he kneeled, patching the holes in their bodies. Could see the color draining from their faces with every torturous passing minute. "You believe this guy, Danny? Acting like he ain't never been shot before."</p><p>"I haven't," Miller groaned in a strained voice, looking at the blood covering his shaking hand.</p><p>"What a rook," Danny tried to choke out. Could feel the blood pooling in his lung. He was in bad shape and he knew it.</p><p>Burk looked over his shoulder across the way at Tom. He couldn't reach him—he'd tried his luck with Miller, and Danny and managed to bring them to him—but there's no way he could reach the Captain. "How you doin' Captain?" he hollered.</p><p>Tom was slumped against the back of a crate. The pain in his hip was sensational, and he was acutely aware that his leg was bleeding a little too much. He was clamping the artery—it had been nicked. "I'm not gonna lie, I've seen better days," he said, the pain evident in his voice.</p><p>"Naw, this ain't nothin, Captain," Burk tried to reassure, to brush it off. He wasn't stupid—he knew they were in a world of fucking trouble right now, just wasn't ready to admit it yet. "Plus, Cooper will have my ass if I don't bring you back!"</p><p>Tom let out a noise of pain as his hand slipped, blood spurting again from his leg. His fingers were slippy and he was starting to feel lightheaded. <em>Sasha</em>… maybe he should radio her. Didn't feel right to go out like this without at least hearing her voice, one last time. Without making damn sure she knew that he loved her—protocol be damned.</p><p>Burk glanced over at Danny again—lights were on, but no one was home, his face was slack—glazed over, zoned out. He slapped his cheek. "Hey, hey, hey—stay with me. It's okay, come on. This ain't nothin'," he said again, unsure at this point if he was trying to convince them or himself.</p><p>"You should go, make for the hill—meet up with th—" Tom started but Burk cut him off quickly.</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Burk, that's not a request—"</p><p>"I said I'm not leavin, man!" he yelled, turning to look at the Captain. "I'm not leavin any of you!" he repeated. Fuck orders. Fuck Navy—it didn't matter anyway. If they didn't take the airstrip, they were all dead—just a matter of time, frankly it was past that point. Tom drew his lips together in a firm line, looked across the way at Danny and Miller… Truth be told, he wouldn't have left either. He decided to let it go. A fresh wave of pain rolling through him. Looked up at the sky instead, and started thinking about his Kids, and Sasha.</p><p>"<em>Vulture Team, be advised</em>—<em>help is on the way, 15 minutes out!"</em></p><p>"Yeah! You hear that?" Burk hollered, talking to Miller, Green, and Chandler as much as himself. "They're comin' we're gonna make it, alright?"</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha sprinted up the hill as fast as she could to the vantage point she'd already scoped on the satellite feed. Made quick work of setting her rifle and peered through the scope. She made adjustments and saw the Sniper's legs come into view—another adjustment—she inhaled. She had a fucking shot—<em>thank god</em> she had a shot. She adjusted the dial, accounting for the wind. She was a little over 1000 yards out, the only safe vantage point that wouldn't get her seen. She took in a deep, steadying breath and let it out slow as she pulled the trigger.</p><p>Tom and Burk heard the glass smash in the tower and the tell-tale sound of an impact. A fleshy one.</p><p>Burk let out a yell of triumph, pumped his fist in excitement. "Yeah!"</p><p>Tom scanned around trying to figure out where the hell that shot could have come from, the nearest hill with a line of sight was over half a mile out. There was only one person he knew who could make a shot like that—and he'd forbidden Mike from letting her leave the ship.</p><p>
  <em>Sasha.</em>
</p><p>Burks relief was short-lived however, the enemy ground teams moved in, the bullets started flying again – they were moving in for the kill, and there's no way he could hold them all off alone. Sasha heard the gunfire, saw the muzzle flashes, and quickly scanned until she was able to find where they were pinned. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw him through the scope. He was in bad shape. Her nostrils flared, and the panic slammed through her again.</p><p>There was no way.</p><p>No fucking way she was going to lose him now.</p><p>She re-adjusted as fast as she could and fired three shots rapid—the first hit its target, dropping the soldier and causing the others to look around wildly for her perch. Another two fired at their feet—right between them and where Tom, Burk, and the others were pinned. She didn't have enough bullets to take them all, but the message was clear.</p><p>You advance on them—you're dead.</p><p>All she needed was to buy them six minutes. Six more minutes until the ground team arrived by car from the beach.</p><p>"Yeah! You see that? You see that!? We have a Sniper too!" Burk screamed, firing at the soldiers who were now pinned behind a different set of crates. "Cavalry's a comin!" he called. Slapping Danny once more to keep him awake.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mike had given his rag-tag group of soldiers the fastest refresh course in ground combat in the history of the United States Navy—hell, maybe the entire military. They were to split off in groups to come up behind the ground forces, Sasha dubbed Angel would assist with sniper support, and as the tide was turning the Helo would emerge from the beach—their gunner providing support by air while they exfiled their wounded.</p><p>They reached the entry point and hurried out of the cars in their respective groups, Meylan and he leading the charge. Mike paused for one moment to stand before his crew. "I have never been more proud to serve with you fine group of people" he'd told them sincerely. He could tell they were scared. He was scared too—but this was love in its purest form. They were going to rescue their family or die trying.</p><p>Gator had never seen so much chaos in his life. Couldn't believe this was what it was like—if he were honest, he felt like he was about to shit his own pants—but he relied on his training, thought back to the academy and basic. Treated it just like a room simulation and slipped right back into shooting. He saw someone approach from the left and took them out with one shot, another coming at his right, another shot. Precise, clean. It caught Mike's attention and he faltered slightly…</p><p>Gator shot a third.</p><p>Mike stared at him in shock.</p><p>"I shot double expert at the academy. No one ever asked." e elaborated with an almost shrug of his shoulders. So nonchalant and honest that Mike almost laughed. Would have were it not for the circumstances. Shook his head bemused instead—his crew never ceased to amaze him.</p><p>They pushed forward.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha fired her last bullet, the gun clicking empty. She'd managed to keep a wall between Tom, and the enemy ground team—had given Burk enough time to make it over to properly tourni his leg. She snapped up quickly, packing up her gun. "<em>Nomad this is Angel, I'm out</em>—<em>pick me up on the hill and proceed to the airfield, we need to exfil those wounded!"</em></p><p>Burk was kneeling in front of the Captain, his face was pale, and he was deteriorating rapidly from the blood loss. Teetering in and out of consciousness. "You hear that?" Burk asked him, slapping his cheek. "Guardian Angel's on her way" he mumbled. Still holding pressure on his artery in addition to the two tourniquets he'd secured.</p><p>Tom was staring off into the distance, eyes vacant. Burk slapped his cheek again.</p><p>"Hey man! You need to wake your ass up—she gets here and you're dead she's gonna kill me," he joked—but he was scared. He didn't know how much longer Tom would last. They'd been pinned for over thirty minutes. Everyone knew if you didn't make it to help within the golden hour, you were as good as dead.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as the Helo was close enough for her to jump without breaking a leg, she did. Ran across the tarmac to him. Doc Rios not far behind. It was a close call between who was in worse shape; Tom or Green—but the fact that the bullet had nicked his femoral artery won out. Rios needed to treat him first.</p><p>"Tom!" she called, clasping his head in her hands. He was so pale, ashen, his lips white – his eyes though open, were so far from vibrant it shocked her. They looked grey. "Hey, I'm here," she tried again. His head was lolling as she shook it, trying to get him to respond.</p><p>"He needs blood, now!" Doc Rios said, grabbing Tom's arm and pulling the sleeve up. He made quick work of starting a blood bag and handed it over, motioning Burk to hold it up while he continued to kneel on top of his hand that was plugging Tom's leg. Rios dug through his bags to find his metal clamps. "When I tell you, I need you to lift your hand up fast, but be ready to put it back on my mark. If I don't clamp this quickly enough, he'll die," he instructed.</p><p>Sasha's head snapped up, and she stared at him. Her lip trembled, and she could feel herself starting to lose it. She looked back at Tom, stroking his right cheek. "You owe me," she told him—<em>owe me a fresh start,</em> "you can't leave, " her voice was strangled. </p><p>"Ready? Now!" Rios called, Burk lifted his knee and hand quickly. Watched as the Doc dove right in, pushing fabric away and digging into his leg with the clamps. The sudden onslaught of pain seemed to seep through the fog, and Tom stirred slightly—his eyes regaining more focus. He made a noise of discomfort, finally moving and tracking until he registered her face. Their gazes locked. </p><p>"There you are," she echoed, shifting closer. As close as she could be without sitting on his lap. </p><p>"<em>Sasha,</em>" he croaked. He'd been picturing her face while he sat there dying, wanted to radio her but realized too late that he'd lost the ability to move. She smiled for him, the action causing the tears she'd been trying to hold back to slip down her cheeks. She stroked his face in earnest.</p><p>"I'm here—and I'm mad as hell, so you have to fight because I'm the only one allowed to take you down," she joked. His lip twitched, an attempt at a smirk. She let out a breathy laugh that could also have been sob. Something in-between. He winced again in pain.</p><p>"Got it!" Rios exclaimed. Locking the clamp so it couldn't shake loose and wrapping the area to pack it in tight. "I need you to get him on the stretcher and into the Helo—that clamp MUST stay closed, or he will bleed out. Keep the bag up—I have two more in the kit, rotate it out once it's empty. I need to help Green," he explained quickly to Sasha and Burk while he picked up the supplies he needed and moved.</p><p>They wasted no time in following his instructions. Sasha held the bag and made sure the clamp stayed in place while Burk shifted Tom onto the stretcher. Nolan and Diaz ran out to collect him, and Sasha nodded at Burk. </p><p>"<em>Go</em>, go help Green," she instructed. Burk nodded and sprinted back to the Doc. She'd have to thank him later—though she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to do it justice. She held the bag high and knelt next to Tom in the Helo. Waiting for the others to arrive while she grabbed his hand and held onto it for dear life. She couldn't lose him now. Not when they were so close. She didn't know if she'd survive.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><strong>November 22nd, 2015</strong>—<strong>USS</strong> <strong>Nathan James, Medical Bay, 2200 Hours</strong></p><p>Sasha was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the heart-rate monitor. It's what she'd been doing for the past five hours since Rios finished his surgery. He'd been out cold since, and she'd been holding his hand the entire time, save for in surgery of course. Then she'd simply sat on the floor in the p-way with her knees drawn to her chest and stared at the door. Hadn't even bothered to take her tac vest off yet.</p><p>Mike cleared his throat to make sure she knew someone was approaching before he quietly pulled the curtains open. She looked like hell—she was a beautiful woman, and he wasn't sure he could say she ever looked terrible<em>, </em>but this was close to it as he'd seen. The bags under her eyes were so dark it almost looked like they were bruised. Her face was gaunt, and skin pale to the point of looking translucent.</p><p>He sighed and stepped in, closing the curtain behind him. "How's he doing?" he asked quietly.</p><p>She pouted slightly. "No change. Doc Rios said there's nothing more we can do… lost too much blood. Said his pressure dropped on the table below 80—went into shock. It's all up to him now," she mumbled. She'd stopped crying hours ago, simply because there was nothing left to cry.</p><p>Mike swallowed—he'd been briefed, of course. But he just wanted to keep her talking. Get her moving. "He's a fighter. He'll come back," he said confidently.</p><p>Sasha looked at him blankly, had he not heard what she just said? "He's in a <em>coma,</em>" she repeated, sarcastic as if explaining something extremely obvious to a five-year-old.</p><p>Mike's eyes saddened, seeing now that she'd lost hope. "Don't give up on him yet," he said quietly. She squeezed her eyes shut and hung her head. The pain was overwhelming her again. "I came to give you a break," he started but she cut him off sharply.</p><p>"I'm not leaving."</p><p>Mike made a regretful expression. Didn't want to have to do this, but he'd promised Tom before he'd left to take care of her and the kids should anything happen to him, and she was refusing to listen to reason, so he needed to force her hand. "I'm not asking," he started slowly, and she looked up at him turning her head to the side in confusion.</p><p>Sasha narrowed her eyes, "What does that mean?" she challenged him.</p><p>"It means, I'll have Doc sedate you and give you a feeding tube if I have to—but you need to get some rest, eat some food, and take care of yourself." He didn't like being the bad guy, but every now and again, that's what he had to do.</p><p>She recoiled her head like she'd been slapped. "Are you kidding me right now?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Did he put you up to this?" she was exasperated.</p><p>Mike swallowed. "I made him a promise. One I intend to keep, and frankly—if I let you starve yourself to death before he wakes up, he'll kill me. I'm already in enough trouble for letting you off the James." Mike tried to lighten the mood with a funny expression, glad that she seemed to consider his words.</p><p>"Mike… <em>I can't</em>," she admitted through gritted her teeth, barely able to get the words out, imploring him to understand. He softened slightly.</p><p>"If I have Rios set up a bed, you can sleep in here. But you need to go take a shower and eat," he compromised.</p><p>She worked her jaw for a second, considering it, before nodding almost imperceptibly. "But you'll find me, if anything changes," she told him.</p><p>He realized it then. She was terrified that he'd die the second she left, that she wouldn't be there. His brows furrowed in empathy. "You have my word."</p><p>She looked back over at Tom, chewed on her lip some more, scanning his face, and then back at the heart monitor—Mike didn't miss it—that's why she was staring at it. She was watching every heartbeat like it would make a difference. Sasha lingered for a few more minutes, struggling to let go. He gave her time, patiently standing with his hands clasped behind his back, while she worked up the courage. </p><p>"Okay," she finally whispered, pushing herself up and forcing herself to let go of his hand. Immediately feeling the dread swell to almost unbearable levels as she did it. Left the room quickly after that—the sooner she showered and forced food down her throat, the sooner she could come back to watch over him. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The mess hall was empty when she reached it empty except for Carlton Burk. He was absently eating a bowl of ready-made oats—they were down to the most basic of food supplies at this point. If it was processed, packaged, and made with water that was pretty much it. Carlot looked up when she appeared in the threshold and put the spoon down. Stood as she entered.</p><p>Her heart cringed—these damn sailors and their respect. You stood for the wives and girlfriends of the fallen. She was neither of those things, but he certainly had fallen, and she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Sasha walked over to him, prepared to convey how grateful she was for everything he'd done. For how hard he'd fought, for not leaving them there to save himself, but she couldn't find the words. For a few moments, she merely stood awkwardly before she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Burk. He was so shocked, it took him a moment to process, but she felt him return the gesture.</p><p>"Thank you," she said sincerely before pulling away. He hung his head and shook it slightly.</p><p>"I shoulda tried to get to him quicker," he started, and she shook her head sharply, cutting him off.</p><p>"You did everything you could. And you saved Green and Miller. If you hadn't been there…" She looked away, trailing off, and rose her eyebrows to indicate that she was done talking. Moved on to grab the same thing as him. Couldn't talk about it more than that, it was too raw. Carlton sighed and sat down again heavily. The weight of events playing over in his head like a broken record. Sasha sat down quietly opposite him, and they ate in silence.</p><p>"<em>Ms. Cooper!"</em></p><p>Both of their heads snapped up. They heard someone calling her name from outside in the p-way, sounded like they were running towards the mess. Sasha dropped the spoon loudly on the floor and almost tripped because her body moved so fast her legs couldn't catch up. She shouldn't have left, she <em>knew it. </em>He'd died, and she wasn't there. She bumped into the sailor sent to get her and didn't even bother to say sorry. She didn't have time. Twenty minutes—that's all, she'd left for twenty minutes, and he'd slipped away. Could feel her chest heaving with panic. Wasn't sure if she was going to be able to stop herself from attacking Mike for making her go. She burst into the room, ripped the curtain because she tore at it so aggressively.</p><p>The wind left her. Tom was squinting at her from the bed. </p><p>She blinked several times in confusion. He was <em>awake</em>.</p><p>"I'll leave you to it," Mike nodded quietly, quickly excusing himself.</p><p>"Hey," Tom rasped, attempting to smile at her but the fog of drugs made it hard to do much of anything. Sasha's mouth opened, and she tried to find something to say but was so shocked that nothing took precedence. Scoffed in disbelief instead and stepped forward, shaking her head. Tom tried to hold his hand out to her, the movement sluggish, she noticed and reached out to catch it, returning to the spot she'd been sitting in for hours before Mike kicked her out.</p><p>She felt dizzy. She'd never been so angry, elated, bereft, and relieved in her entire life. All at once. She wanted to scream at him, kiss him, leave him so he could never hurt her like that again, and then cling to him desperately, and beg him to stay with her forever. Moisture stung her eyes, breathing uneven. </p><p>"<em>Sasha,</em>" his voice was so quiet, so dry—it was everything, the most incredible sound she'd ever heard. </p><p>"Don't ever do that to me again," there, she found something. It was stunted and tight. Probably not what she wanted to say, but the truest conveyance of what she was feeling available. Tom swallowed, clearly fighting to stay awake, and nodded his head in acknowledgment. </p><p>She sighed again heavily in relief and elation, bent forward, placed a kiss on his forehead, and rested her head against his—nose to nose. Tom closed his eyes and squeezed her hand as much as he could. She squeezed back. Felt some of her tears hit his cheeks. Would have wiped them for her if he had the strength. </p><p>"I love you so much, Tom," she choked out, squeezing her eyes closed, trying to get herself back under control. He could feel her entire body trembling. Hear the unspoken words in her voice that told him he'd scared her half to death. </p><p>"I'm sorry," he told her. She sniffed and pulled her head away slightly, finding his eyes open again. He watched as she wiped her tears from his face, noticing now that her hair was wet, and she was wearing his hoodie over her nightclothes. Sasha shook her head, didn't know what to say. It was just too overwhelming, so she kissed his cheek instead.</p><p>"Rest," she told him. "We'll have plenty of time to talk when you wake up." Stroking the skin under her fingertips in a loving manner. It was the permission he needed to stop fighting so hard against the drugs and fatigue. He closed his eyes and settled, enjoying the simple comfort of her hands caressing his face and counted his blessings that he'd lived to fight another day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>November 23rd, 2015 USS Nathan James, 0900 Hours</strong>
</p><p>"Good Morning," Mike greeted as he entered the wardroom. "By now, as you know, we have successfully secured the airfield. I've been in communication with the President, and first, he would like me to express his sincere and deep gratitude to this crew for your courage, valor, and sacrifice in the name of this mission," he began, pausing to address Master Chief, "I trust you'll spread the word," Jeter nodded back at him, a prideful smile upon his face before he continued. "Second, we've received confirmation that our scientists have isolated the formula they need from Vellek's research—we will deliver the seeds, escorted by Lt. Burk to Norfolk, where they will then be distributed to our secure research facility in Florida to begin mass production of a cure. Our wounded will be med evaced back to Naval Base San Diego, where I have been assured they will receive the best in medical treatment available," he continued, eyes settling on Sasha.</p><p>"Our prisoners will be transported separately after our two other convoys for St. Louis. President Oliver would like to compel them himself to assist in the effort to deliver a cure," he finished, closing the communications file and placing it on the desk in front of him.</p><p>"Wheels up at thirteen hundred hours, we've finished refueling, and once our planes are away, the Nathan James will sortie into international waters and set a course home," he said, smiling. "In the meantime, Cooper, Wolf, and Kara will take Nomad, pick up Capn' Chandler's kids and get em' back here in time for his evac."</p><p>Mike looked around the room, though tired, a little worse for wear and stressed—they'd almost completed their mission. They were in the home stretch. He nodded his head, a little emotion catching in his throat that he pushed away. "This is a great day, and I have never been more proud of this crew," he added, stopping himself before the words became too much.</p><p>"Here, here!" Master Chief affirmed.</p><p>Mike knocked his hand on the table once. Getting control of himself, and nodded again before dismissing them. "That is all."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha stopped by medical on the way to the Helo but he was still asleep. She was nervous, fidgeting with her weapon as they waited for Nomad to land. She was scared, scared his kids wouldn't like her. She'd never actually had time to meet them in San Diego—once she'd managed to get Tom off that jet, she'd given them space. Gone to help retrieve Tex's body, and spent most of the night trying to comfort Kathleen. He'd already made up his mind by the time she'd seen him next, and he'd disembarked less than fifteen minutes later. Thinking about it still stung, probably always would. She was glad Kara was here—her suggestion—Tom's kids would have someone they knew, someone they trusted.</p><p>They had no trouble in finding the house. His instructions to Mike sound—not that they'd doubted them. When they rounded the hill, Sam spotted them, pointed, and called for Ashley while he ran to greet Kara. "Kara!" she handed Sasha her rifle and bent down slightly, ready to hug him as he jumped at her.</p><p>"Hey Buddy!" she said enthusiastically, picking him up and spinning him around, making a show of how big he'd grown. "Wow! Look at how tall you are!" she said while putting him down. Ashely had run over too but was more reserved, her expression worried as she looked for her Dad. She made eye contact with Sasha, who smiled at her, attempting to appear as welcoming and non-threatening as possible.</p><p>"Hi, Ashley, I'm Sasha—I work with your Dad," she introduced herself.</p><p>"Is he okay?" she asked immediately, straight to the point and direct, just like her father.</p><p>"He hurt his leg, but he's gonna be fine, he's okay. There are some Doctors in San Diego who can fix it—"</p><p>"So, we're going home!?" Sam interrupted, excited. Ashely, hit him on the arm to admonish him for interrupting.</p><p>"Sam, she wasn't finished!"</p><p>"Sorry," he immediately apologized.</p><p>Sasha felt herself relaxing a fraction, smiled at the interaction, and glanced over at Kara who reached out to ruffle Sam's hair.</p><p>"Yes, your Dad sent us to get you so you can fly home with him this afternoon," Sasha confirmed.</p><p>By now, Yaya and her daughter, Cali, had emerged from the house and started walking toward them, the movement drew all of their attention, and Ashley saw how they all reached for weapons. "That's Yaya and Cali. They're okay," she told them. They immediately relaxed—definitely Tom's daughter, Sasha thought as she made a regretful expression and shook her head.</p><p>"Sorry, habits," she told Ashely, who seemed to consider her for a moment, before giving her a small nod.</p><p>"It's okay, my Dad does the same thing," she offered quietly. Sasha nodded back at her.</p><p>"Maybe we can help you guys pack? Your Dad's flight leaves in a couple hours so we don't have much time." Kara suggested, raising her brows at both kids expectantly.</p><p>"Okay! Last one to the house is a loser," Sam said, running off. Ashely rolled her eyes, hating how her brother was so stupid and goofy all the time. Like he hadn't even heard that their Dad was hurt. Kara sprinted off, indulging Sam, and Wolf did too, leaving Sasha and Ashley to hang back to tell Yaya and Cali what was going on. Sasha greeted them in Greek, she'd spent enough in the region at this point to pick up the basics—enough to get by, be polite, and get information. She didn't miss how Ashely looked at her with surprise before masking her features. Nor how she was lingering, but Sasha didn't know why.</p><p>Yaya responded warmly, but there was something about the way her daughter looked at her that made Sasha uncomfortable. "Tom asked me to thank you, for taking care of Sam and Ashley—"</p><p>Cali scoffed and shook her head, cutting her off. "So, that's it? He's not coming back?" she pressed.</p><p>Sasha's eyebrows rose, and her lips quirked downwards, clearly, there was more going on here than she was privy to. Yaya quickly shushed her daughter.</p><p>"Cali, we knew this day would come. He belongs with his ship," she admonished quietly. The girl shook her head again and walked away. Headed up to the house.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Yaya started, returning to Sasha, who was trying to remain indifferent.</p><p>"Not at all," she recovered easily but there was little genuine warmth in her tone, all business.</p><p>"Come, I'll take you to his things," Yaya said, gesturing for her to follow.</p><p>Ashley was still lingering and from Sasha's point of view, it didn't seem like she liked the girl Cali much. Sasha took a chance and decided to raise her eyebrows a wry expression and was pleased that it earned a small smile in response, however reluctant it seemed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sasha was in Tom's old room packing his duffle bag with the few possessions he'd bought with him to Greece when Ashely entered the room, her own duffle in hand.</p><p>"I'm done," she announced simply, putting it on the bed next to the one Sasha was packing.</p><p>"That was fast," Sasha said. Double-checking the drawers to make sure she hadn't missed anything.</p><p>"My Dad has a picture of you. I found it when I was looking for pictures of my Mom," she blurted out. Sasha faltered and looked up at her. Her expression showing how surprised she was that Ashely was being so forward and that he was still carrying that around. Her mind was scrambling for the correct response, Tom and she hadn't gotten this far yet—the conversation about what to tell his kids. How much time he wanted, how he wanted to introduce her. She didn't want to screw this up.</p><p>"Relax, he already told me about you," she said, a hint of mischief in her eyes. Yes, she was <em>very much</em> Tom Chandler's kid. Sasha let out the breath she'd be holding and recovered.</p><p>"He did, did he?" Sasha played along, returning to double-checking drawers.</p><p>"He said you guys dated in college or something before he met Mom."</p><p>Sasha nodded—not quite, but close enough. "That's true. You know I met your Mom one time? Just after you were born," she said, turning to face Ashley with an open and honest expression.</p><p>That got Ashely's attention, and she perked up. "You did?"</p><p>Sasha smiled kindly at her and nodded. "I did. At a ceremony, I don't even remember what it was for. Your Mom was a beautiful, kind woman, and I know he loved her very much. I'm happy he found her and had you both. He <em>always</em> wanted you and your brother… I'm so sorry, for what happened," she offered sincerely. It was the truth—and she hoped that Ashley could sense that. Could understand that she in no way,<em> ever </em>wanted to replace or compete with Darien. Hoping to kill any resentment from the start by being direct and forward. It seemed that Ashely was mature enough to handle it.</p><p>Ashley regarded her for a moment before nodding softly. Sasha seemed different to Cali. Cali would say things like she liked them being around, but always seemed annoyed whenever they spent time with their Dad. Always clammed up when Ashley spent time with him.</p><p>"Thanks," Ashely said softly.</p><p>Sasha smiled warmly at her again and nodded softly, zipping up the bag. "Did I miss anything?" she asked, changing the subject to something lighter.</p><p>Ashley chewed on her lip a bit and looked sheepish. "There might be some of his stuff… in Cali's room. They were kind of together."</p><p>Sasha's face fell slightly, but she covered it quickly. "Oh. Well I best go check then," she said, picking up the bag, was almost at the door before she heard Ashely speak again.</p><p>"Sasha?"</p><p>She turned back to face her. "I don't think he likes her. He seemed happier when he told me about you," she offered. Had come to terms with the fact that at some point her Dad would want to be with someone again. Not be alone—they'd talked at length about it after she'd found the picture about a month after arriving in Greece. At first, she'd been angry with him. Wondered if he'd cheated because he still had the picture. That he hadn't loved her Mom properly, but he'd explained why, and how it came to be there. If her Dad was going to be with anyone, she'd rather it was someone like Sasha than Cali.</p><p>Sasha was struck by just how much this kid saw, though she supposed, she wasn't much of a kid anymore. After what she'd been through, how the world had changed it was no surprise that she'd been forced to grow up faster than was fair. That and growing up in a multi-generation military family wouldn't lend itself to being naive. Not when the possibilities of life-changing events loomed constantly over their heads.</p><p>"You see everything don't you? I could use more back up in Intelligence," Sasha half-joked, giving her a look that made her laugh slightly.</p><p>"Try telling that to my Dad," she shot back, rolling her eyes.</p><p>Sasha chuckled, "Oh, I can only imagine how happy he'd be if we get back and tell him you've joined my team."</p><p>Ashley smiled, "Yeah, if you wanna see his head explode."</p><p>Sasha smiled ruefully at her. "Sit tight, I'm gonna go pay <em>Cali </em>a visit," she said, exaggerating the other woman's name—she'd seen, and heard enough. It was clear Ashely didn't like her. Ashely smirked and played with the zip on the bag.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Tom looked up when Mike rounded the corner. He put the book he was reading down when he saw him and raised his eyebrows. Mike inclined his head at him in acknowledgment.</p><p>"You let her off the Ship," Tom stated. Well, he knew it was coming—though a hello would have been nice.</p><p>Mike sucked air in through his teeth before he responded. "<em>Tom</em>, she was ready to shoot her way to the Helo," he inclined his head to the side to make his point known. It wasn't what Tom wanted to hear. The way he pouted his lips and broke eye contact to brood over the information was evidence enough. He was livid. Mike gave him his <em>word. </em>He'd been explicitly clear that she was not field ready right now. "If the situation were reversed, can you honestly say you'd let me stop you?" Mike asked, raising his brows.</p><p>Also, not what he wanted to hear. Tom worked his jaw silently because he had him on that. If he could walk, stand, and shoot, there's no way Mike would be able to stop him. No one would. Mike saw the moment Tom accepted his logic, the absolute anger in his face softening slightly.</p><p>"Anyway, came to let you know—I'm putting her on the medevac with you and the Kids." Tom finally moved his eyes to look back at him then. "Figured it was a good way to say sorry?" Mike continued, only slightly joking.</p><p>Tom let the breath of a chuckle through his nose—the last of his anger fading away and reason taking over again. "Consider it accepted," he answered before adding, "and you're right, I wouldn't have let you stop me—if the situation were reversed," he admitted reluctantly.</p><p>Mike took it for what it was, his version of an apology. "Hey, that's why you guys are perfect for each other—both stubborn as mules," he quipped.</p><p>Tom smirked slightly, couldn't argue with that either. Mike paused for a moment, his expression becoming more serious. He'd kept his emotions in check for the sake of the crew, and Sasha, but for a minute there, he really had thought he was gone.</p><p>"Glad you're back, buddy." It was simple, said with a small nod and it communicated everything it needed to. Tom inhaled and nodded back at him.</p><p>"Glad to be here," he said, and he was relieved by how much he meant it. There'd been many a moment since life had been turned upside down that he'd wondered… wondered in his darkest moments if it might be easier to just let go. For it all to be over.</p><p>It was refreshing to survive and realize that you actually wanted to live. Mike cleared his throat, ending the moment.</p><p>"Kids should be here any minute!" he said, moving toward the curtain.</p><p>"Mike—Thank you," Tom said.</p><p>"You're welcome," he replied and stepped out.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Mike was waiting for them all in the Helo Bay when they landed.</p><p>"Uncle Mike!" Sam exclaimed when he saw him, and Mike chuckled genuine happiness spreading through his heart. He loved kids. Always had, he missed it every day. The endless energy, the curiosity, the innocence. <em>Lucas</em>.</p><p>"Hey Buddy!" he returned enthusiastically, engulfing the boy in a hug. Wolf helped Ashley jump down from the Helo, and she brightened up when she saw him.</p><p>"Hi Uncle Mike," she said, coming over to join her brother in hugging him.</p><p>"Ashley!" he greeted happily. They looked good, much happier than the last time he'd seen them. They had tans, Sam had grown, Ashely too—seemed more like kids again, more carefree. Relaxed. "You ready to go see your Dad? He just woke up," he told them enthusiastically.</p><p>"Yes!" Sam answered quickly.</p><p>"Alright, Burk will take you guys up—you remember Burk, right?"</p><p>"Yes, you work with Danny and have the cool guns," Sam answered while Ashley, the more reserved of the two, nodded.</p><p>Burk smiled and chuckled. "That's right my man. I've got all the cool toys," he confirmed, gesturing for them both to follow him.</p><p>Mike nodded. "I'll see you guys in a bit." Sam waved as he looked back.</p><p>Sasha took off her vest and put her rifle on the ready table, heading over to him.</p><p>"How'd it go?" he asked.</p><p>She put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and tipped her head at him, raising her eyebrows and pulling a face. "The kids? Surprisingly well. The girlfriend? Wasn't that happy to see me," she said, giving him a pointed look as she waited for him to respond.</p><p>For a moment, he thought she was joking; until he realized she was completely serious. He shook his head. "I got nothin," he was hoping she didn't think he knew anything about this, "though I did just tell him I'm sending you back with them—do I need to belay that order?" he asked, raising his eyebrows sincerely.</p><p>She smirked slightly and shook her head, blinked slowly. "No, it was nothing serious. Not on his part at least. Plus, I did date the guy that killed five members of our crew," she deadpanned. He didn't know what to say in response to that, but she rescued him by changing the subject quickly. "He say anything? When he woke up?" she asked curiously.</p><p>Mike let out an awkward laugh. "Yeah," he schooled his features into the best impression of Tom he could make and imitated his voice, "you let her off the ship."</p><p>She couldn't help the snort of laughter, slightly mortified at her reaction, but she just hadn't expected it. Nor had she been prepared for how accurate it was. "<em>Oh wow</em>, does he know you can do that?"</p><p>He smiled back at her, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Nah, I'm saving it—haven't quite found the moment."</p><p>She shook her head, laughing. "Well, you need to make sure I'm there when you do."</p><p>"Glad I have your approval," he replied, clasping his hands behind his back and giving her a grin. She smiled back at him, a genuine smile—hadn't been doing too many of those lately. It was nice to see her looking somewhat happy. Sasha reached out and squeezed his arm, a non-verbal gesture to let him know how much she appreciated him.</p><p>"I'm gonna go pack, say some goodbyes—I'll see you before we leave?"</p><p>"You can count on it," he confirmed.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ashley and Sam were sitting in Medical with their Father; though scared at first, he'd managed to convince them he would be ok, just in and out of hospital for a while whilst the Doctors fixed up his leg. The bullet to the Artery though the most life-threatening wouldn't cause lasting damage. It was the hip shot that had shattered part of his femur that was the real son of a bitch. Rios had removed as many fragments as he could, but he'd need reconstructive surgery and a plate to remove the rest and repair the bone—expertise he just didn't have. Tom was in dull pain—though not terrible compared to when he'd been hit. The painkillers doing their job effectively. He was fatigued, though. Twenty minutes awake was enough to make him want to sleep for several hours.</p><p>Ashely was sitting on the foot of the bed with her legs crossed, while Sam hung out with Kara talking to Danny. He idolized him; if Tom were a lesser man, he'd almost be jealous. Tom shifted his gaze back to Ashley, he could tell she wanted to talk about something but was trying to figure out how to do it.</p><p>He decided to help her. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?"</p><p>She played with the fabric of the blanket on the bed and peered up at him. "I met Sasha," she started. He blinked and waited for her to continue, keeping his expression carefully neutral. "She said she met Mom before?"</p><p>Tom nodded his head. "She did," he confirmed for her before adding, "she met Grandma, and Grandpa too."</p><p>Her head perked up in surprise. "Really?" Tom smiled slightly, remembering how Jed had always told him how much he liked her. How she had spunk—how he'd be crazy not to marry her, and that he couldn't believe she was stupid enough to be interested in him. A point of contention later when he'd said Darien was too soft to keep him on his toes compared to Sasha. "Yep. Grandpa liked her a lot."</p><p>"Did you know she speaks Greek?" she asked, and he furrowed his brow slightly—an odd question, and he wasn't sure of the relevance, but he was playing along to see where it led.</p><p>"She speaks a lot of different languages, I think at least 9, maybe 10?" he said, trying to count them all in his mind. Ashley's mouth quirked slightly trying to hide the fact that she was impressed.</p><p>"Is she a spy? She said I should join her team in Intelligence," the question a little too curious for his taste. His frown became genuine then, and she rolled her eyes at him. "So, you guys are already conspiring to give me a heart attack?"</p><p>"Dad, I know she was joking," Ashley replied exasperated. Tom shook his head, smirking as he did it. She smiled and laughed slightly before her expression got more serious again, a little more hesitant.</p><p>"Do you want her to live with us?" It was timid. Immediately, he felt guilty for Cali. For the tension it had caused, he didn't want his kids to feel second best, feel like an after-thought. Like they had no choice in the matter. He knew that Ashely hadn't been happy, he'd been selfish. Used Cali as a distraction and a bed warmer when she didn't treat his children the way she should—he could see that now that he'd gotten out of his head enough to take a long hard look at his choices.</p><p>"I would like her to, eventually. But, I want you to get to know her first, both of you. I know I've made some... mistakes with that, and I'm sorry. I want you to be happy, and I promise that will come first," he answered.</p><p>Ashley seemed to think about it and nodded. "We want you to be happy too Dad. At least she seems cooler than Cali," she answered, and he couldn't help the wry smirk that came out. It amazed him how resilient they were, how kind. Made him proud of Darien every day for how well she'd raised them. How considerate and perceptive Ashely was—far beyond her years.</p><p>"She's definitely cooler than Cali," he agreed.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>They were on the flight headed to San Diego. President Oliver had sent a C-5 to collect their wounded, and they were spread out in the cargo bay. Sasha had said her goodbyes though bittersweet; she was ready. She was ready to go home. To try and re-build something—even after delivering the cure to Asia, she hadn't stopped. Just moved from one mission to the next. Kept running and pressing on. She was beyond exhausted. Mentally fried. Even she had to admit to herself that it needed to stop, if just for a while.</p><p>Tom was sleeping again, and the kids played a board game they'd bought with them on the floor. She was sitting near Green—keeping him company. Kara had declined to evac with him. With their already limited crew, she hadn't felt right abandoning her station, but she would be there in two weeks, and her mother and Frankie would be waiting to take care of him when they landed. Sasha had made her a promise too, that she'd watch over him until she could join them.</p><p>After a while, Green fell asleep again. She decided to wander over and check on Tom. Sam looked up when he saw her and waved. She smiled brightly and waved back at him; he was such a happy kid.</p><p>"Hey there," she said, walking over and looking down at what they were playing, "Oooo, UNO—that's a great game," she offered.</p><p>"Do you maybe wanna play with us?" Ashley asked, and for some reason, Sasha just couldn't help how much it warmed her heart, swallowed away the overreaction, and smiled softly instead.</p><p>"I'd love to," she said, lowering herself to sit cross-legged with them on the floor.</p><p>That's how he found them when he awoke. Enjoying a simple game of cards. They were smiling, laughing, and being animated—they looked <em>happy.</em> Sasha felt his eyes on her and glanced up, faltering slightly at the expression he wore. It made her heart clench with warmth. It was so tender. Suddenly felt her eyes getting moist, and she smiled gently back at him. It lasted just a moment before Sam grabbed her attention again, excitedly declaring he had UNO, but it was just enough. Enough to settle her fears—the trepidation. The idea that she might not be good enough with his kids. That they might hate her and they'd be forced apart for his family's sake.</p><p>It was really happening.</p><p>They had a chance.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>November 27th, 2015—Naval Medical Center, San Diego—2100 Hours</strong>
</p><p>Once they'd landed her plate had been full again. Between hooking up with Kara's mother and Frankie and assisting them all in getting settled in temporary family housing at Fisher House, Sasha had barely had time to speak with Tom privately. As soon as they'd landed, he was taken into surgery to address the fragmented bone and then transferred quickly into a long-term recovery wing. Sasha took Sam and Ashley to visit him daily where they rightfully so, wanted to spend as much time with their Dad as possible. She'd given them the space they needed, hung out with Green who was recovering in the same wing to provide Debbie with a break between caring for Frankie and making sure he didn't feel alone. Had a makeshift thanksgiving spread between two different recovery rooms. Watched the address from the President, a speech of unity, healing, and moving on—of hope. It felt like life. Real-life. A life she hadn't lived in so long.</p><p>Sasha was glad to see him awake, shaved, and bathed when she walked in. He looked better—most of his color had returned, had more energy. Seemed to be in less pain. He had his laptop up and was working on some stuff when she arrived.</p><p>"Hey," he said happily when he spotted her.</p><p>"Hi," she greeted, smiling at him.</p><p>"Finally, no kids," he said, only half-joking.</p><p>She raised an eyebrow and inclined her head. "Think the excitement finally got them, they're sleeping back at the house. Debbie's there watching them, figured I'd use the opportunity to sneak away."</p><p>He nodded. "Are you sure you're ok with this?" he'd already managed to ask her quietly on the plane over. Knew this was a big ask, to have her look out for his kids when she barely knew them—especially given the fact that she'd never wanted any herself.</p><p>"<em>Tom,</em> they're great kids—we've talked about this, it's fine," she reminded him as she settled herself against the wall in the room. She'd been sitting all day, wasn't used to having so much time to be stationary, no crisis to fix. "Though your daughter did have to break the news to me about Cali," she added casually.</p><p>Tom's face fell, and he immediately became apologetic. "I wasn't trying to hide it from you, it honestly didn't cross my mind, and by the time I woke up, Mike said you'd already gone," he explained, imploring her to believe him. She didn't look mad. She didn't look hurt—he couldn't quite tell what her mood was, and that's what was making him nervous.</p><p>Sasha tilted her head slightly to the side. Nodded softly, seemingly accepting his answer, and he relaxed. They made idle chatter about what the kids had been up to that day and what his Doctor had shared about his progress before returning attention to emails. He was firing something off when she next spoke.</p><p>"Did you love her?"</p><p>He scrunched up his face as if that were a stupid question—couldn't control himself, it was a natural reaction. "<em>No</em>, she was just a distraction. I got tired of having to push her away, so eventually, I just went with it," he admitted sheepishly. It wasn't something he was proud of. It wasn't a look that gelled well with the image of a dedicated family man, and he could see how poorly both Cali and Lucia reflected upon him. Especially to her in particular. Tom glanced up at her, only then faltering as he took in her expression. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment before he set the laptop aside. Giving her his full attention again.</p><p>"You weren't talking about Cali," he said slowly, a heaviness in his tone.</p><p>She pursed her lips slightly, the way she did was she was nervous but trying to hide it and inclined her left eyebrow slightly, confirming that, <em>no</em>—she was not interested in knowing if he'd been in love with Cali. The fact that she'd not even crossed his mind told her everything she needed to know. Just the same as he'd never asked if she'd loved Fletcher—it was apparent that she hadn't.</p><p>
  <em>Rachel.</em>
</p><p>If she were honest, it had always bothered her. Had always set alarm bells ringing—how he clammed up and refused even to indulge the notion that Dr. Scott could have been wrong about the Red-Flu mutating. A simmering point of contention for them that had given her pause. Something she'd simply sidestepped and ignored—one battle at a time.</p><p>If they were going to do this though—start fresh? She needed the whole picture. She needed to understand precisely what she was opening herself up to again. How many ghosts she might share him with, above and beyond Darien. Darien had been part of their story for years, a piece she had accepted, and now having met his kids, fully welcomed and appreciated, however much it had hurt at the time. Darien had given him happiness in his children that she would never have been able to provide—and she was thankful for that.</p><p>Tom studied her for a few moments, considering the ramifications of finally voicing what he'd felt, and pondered himself for months after Rachel was killed. Hadn't told anyone that he'd had the choice that night to take her to his bed, or to let her go—that he'd chosen the latter. And now he had another choice, the choice to start a new life. To have a family again, to have someone's trust, expectations, and love to keep. To think of himself as part of a team on the home front instead of a widow. To let Sasha in again. The first woman he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with, who'd likely still be his wife today had she not turned him down.</p><p>Tom made eye contact with her as he spoke, a silent way of communicating that he knew this was important to her, and he intended to be transparent. Begin re-building the trust. "No," he started, and it was the truth, though he didn't miss how she began to frown, "I cared for her. Maybe I could have in different circumstances," he admitted. Sasha carefully chose not to react, kept her features neutral, and blinked instead. "She came to me the night she was murdered. To my hotel room, I know she was waiting for me to invite her in… make some kind of move." Tom saw her jaw twitch, and her eyes faltered slightly, he tipped his head to the side. "It wasn't right with Darien, it had only been a month. She was part of the mission that took me away from my wife when she needed me. Just never felt right." Tom swallowed, debating if he wanted to continue. To voice the full extent of the muddled guilt he'd been harboring over her death.</p><p>"Might have gotten over that eventually, which is why I told her she could find me when she got back. I left it open, and I should have walked her back to her room but I didn't." Tom looked Sasha up and down trepidatiously, trying to gouge her reaction or lack thereof. Saw her expression soften slightly as she considered what he'd told her—dissected it. Hearing it for what it was, the admission that he hadn't been able to let go of his commitment to Darien, that he saw Rachel as the other women. Had been at war with himself over it, and ultimately, felt if he'd chosen differently Rachel might still be alive. Or maybe she wouldn't. Maybe it would have simply delayed the inevitable if the immunes really were that keen on ending her life. Sasha knew him well enough to know he knew that too. Though, knowing Tom, it wasn't what he wanted to hear.</p><p>"What was she like?" she asked instead, more for curiosities sake. Tom had never been a man that loved often, nor come close to it. She wanted to know why. Knew that Tom was a faithful man, not one to look for external opportunity, nor to let his eye stray. Knew without asking that he hadn't acted on anything, but there had to be something that got his attention. Tom's lip quirked down into a small wry smile. <em>You, she was like you. </em>Had put two and two together when he'd stumbled upon that picture again. The explanation for why a strange sense of déjà vu seemed to settle upon him at certain times around Rachel. The echoes of past that had crept up on him, warned him that the qualities she possessed were the same ones he'd failed to say no to in the past.</p><p>"Stubborn. Fearless. Defied orders. Smartest person in the room and incredibly dedicated to her work." He was staring at her extremely intensely and Sasha felt a blush creeping up her neck. "Sound familiar?" he asked tenderly.</p><p>Just like that. With one look, he could charm her out of whatever rabbit hole she was in. Sasha laughed softly, looked down as she tried to suppress the smile. Tom sighed more heavily, the burden of weight finally lifting. It felt good to get it out in the open. He tucked his chin to his chest and continued. "I feel guilty for the way I reacted when she killed Neils." Sasha furrowed her brows again with curiosity. "I just made five senior members of this crew lie to the President to protect you," he lifted his head again, giving her eye contact that made her breath hitch, the amount of adoration proclaimed within it causing her heart to swell. "I think we both know I could have changed the report—or had Michener pardon her immediately—if I'd wanted to," he elaborated.</p><p>"I defied a direct order to return home at the beginning of all this. I put you on lookout in that minefield when it should have been Burk. I led a mutiny on my own ship, went rouge in Asia, killed Shaw… all for what I believed, or wanted." He paused, working his jaw as he brooded. "And I crucified her because she took what she needed to make a cure, and I convinced myself it was about order and rules, when it was because I needed to make sure she couldn't get close," he finished, finally voicing the ugly truth surrounding his decision. "I needed to stay impartial. Set the example. She didn't understand that and I know it hurt her."</p><p>Sasha straightened slightly, a sympathetic expression crossing her features. "You're only Human, Tom," she reminded him gently. "We all do things we're not proud of to protect ourselves... and I think we both know you couldn't condone murder on your own ship..." Tom lifted his eyes again slowly and looked at her, she inhaled and turned her head to the other side, a small smile of encouragement on her lips. Satisfied that he'd told her the whole truth, and happy that it had been easier to hear than she'd expected. Made sense. Very him.</p><p>Sasha knew Tom well enough to know he'd never move on that quickly from Darien, he was too loyal for that, and she also knew he'd never make the same mistake twice. The mistake of falling in love in a leadership position. When impartiality was a matter of life or death, Sasha knew he agonized enough over the fact that he just <em>couldn't </em>be impartial where she was concerned. She was the chink in his armor and she knew it—lived in a gray area that shouldn't exist, and she also knew he was not proud of it. In fact, she was sure, had the world not gone insane, had his crew rightfully complained, Tom would have been questioned heavily for the stunt he'd pulled with the Helo alone. Much less everything else he'd done because he loved her. </p><p>Sasha dropped her arms and walked closer to the bed. "And me? Am I the other women?" she tried to make it lighthearted, but he could see the insecurity hiding behind her statement. Could hear the question she wasn't asking—the one she was afraid to. Was she just a placeholder because he'd lost Darien? Did he still feel like he was disrespecting the memory of his wife by moving on?</p><p>"Hey," he held out his hand to her, and she took it, a slightly guarded look on her face. "When I met Darien, she <em>was</em> the other woman." Her expression changed, eyes quickly filling with emotion at the un-expected admission. Tom rubbed the skin on her hand and smiled warmly at her. "I put her off for three months because I was still waiting for you to come back—and that was almost a year later," he confessed. Thinking back to their awkward daily encounters at the coffee shop where Darien worked. Where he politely tried to keep his distance, and she persisted and finally broke through enough to get him to go on a date with her—heavily endorsed by his friends, family, and everyone around him who were sick of his moping.</p><p>Sasha considered him for a moment, the confession weighing heavily on her. "You really would have left," she stated, shaking her head slightly as it sank in. <em>The Navy.</em> She'd always wondered if it might simply have been a desperate attempt to make them work… that he hadn't really thought it through. Hadn't really meant it.</p><p>Tom's brow furrowed, and his lips quirked. "Never been in the habit of saying things I don't mean," he confirmed. She inhaled and shook her head slightly, taking it all in. Seemed that she'd lived in a fantasy world for so long that when the real thing was right in front of her—it was too good to be true. "You getting cold feet on me?" he asked, his eyes twinkling impishly at her but a modicum of fear lurking behind that statement.</p><p>Fear that was soothed by the way she smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "No. Just can't believe this is actually happening—after everything we've been through... everything that's happened?" she swallowed, her voice getting emotional, "we're so lucky." </p><p>Tom studied her face, eyes traveling tenderly over her features until they settled upon her lips. He reached a hand out to cradle her face and pulled her toward him. Kissed her deeply, the way he had when he'd left the James, though this time she didn't pull away, pulled him closer instead. Let her tongue caress his, tried to pour everything she was feeling into the kiss. How much she loved him. They broke away for air briefly before he captured her lips again, pulled her to him so she'd crawl next to him on the bed, on his right side. Moved his torso, mindful of his leg as he shifted over to position her lower than him, one arm around her back, and a hand buried in her hair holding her head, so she was cradled by him.</p><p>She rested one hand on his cheek, and the other came up behind his shoulder, pushing him closer toward her. She had always loved the way he kissed—the way he did it with his whole body, not just his lips. The way he enveloped her made her safe. They broke apart after a few minutes, her fingers lazily tracing over his lips as they looked at each other.</p><p>"I love you, Sash. Always," he told her.</p><p>Warmth spread through her, a feeling of rightness that brought moisture to her eyes. "I love you too."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>One advantage of being Navy was their ability to fall asleep in less than ideal positions. Sasha was squished on Tom's right side, the plastic guard rail of the bed digging into her back uncomfortably. He had moved over as far as possible with his limited mobility, but it was still a tight fit. He'd asked her to stay the night, and she'd happily obliged. Another perk of being Tom Chandler—the usual rules didn't apply. Visiting hours? Not for them. One of the nurses had been kind enough to stop by with an extra blanket, and he'd draped it over her. She still seemed tired, like she wasn't sleeping much, and if he were honest, he was still deeply worried about her. Her arm was taking longer to heal than it should, probably because she didn't eat, merely picked at her food, or lied and said she already had. And judging by what he'd seen on the few times she'd shared his bed, didn't sleep for more than two hours at a time either.</p><p>Tom was watching as she lightly snored next to him, his sleep pattern had been thrown off significantly by the surgery and drugs, and the constant need to rest had finally released its grip on him. He'd been awake for the past hour, merely enjoying being next to someone he loved again. Right on queue, she fussed slightly. Her arm twitched, and her breathing changed pace, eyes moving behind closed lids. Dreaming about whatever it was she dreamed again. Tom gave it a few more moments to see if she'd settle—didn't want to wake her unless necessary, but the second forceful twitch let him know it wasn't an option.</p><p>"Hey," he called gently while he shook her to rouse her. Sasha inhaled sharply, and her eyes snapped open. "You were dreaming again." Voice tender as he saw her fight the grogginess to understand her surroundings. She licked her lips and rolled, grimacing as her back protested the position she'd jammed herself in. Ran a hand through her hair closing her eyes again in frustration. Tom was watching her intently, his expression troubled.</p><p>"Sash—" he started.</p><p>"Tom," she cut him off. She couldn't have this conversation right now. She was too damn tired and still too shaken up from almost losing him. She couldn't handle it. He sighed. "It's just a dream. Doesn't mean anything—I'll get over it." An attempt to reassure him but it was obvious he wasn't buying what she was selling.</p><p>Tom knew better than to push when she wasn't ready to be tested; knew it would do nothing but backfire, so he let it go. Settled instead for leaning over and kissing her forehead, his hand cupping her head as he did it. His way of silently communicating that he was here, and he'd listen when she was ready to talk. Sasha relaxed slightly and repositioned herself—resting her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat. Her metronome. The thing that always bought her back. Tom stroked her hair absently as he brooded up at the ceiling—whatever this was wasn't going away anytime soon, of that he was sure.</p><p>She left early to get back to Fisher House in time for the kids' breakfast before morning visitation. He'd fallen back asleep, and she hadn't the heart to wake him, so she left, planning on tackling logistics for them today. Tom wanted his cell service set up again, though she wasn't sure how to accomplish that given she didn't have any identification of her own to set up a new account. The fraud was so rampant since the Red-Flu that most things couldn't be done online or via telephone anymore. People's credentials needed to be verified in person. And the more she thought about it, the more she realized she didn't know this country anymore. Peng's post-plague system had been an entirely different approach. As his diplomatic liaison to the States, she'd been afforded every luxury imaginable while the rest of China fought over scraps. She had no idea how things worked here—the Navy had fed and clothed her for close to two years since she'd joined the James. Her basic needs provided for, and in return, her only focus had been the mission.</p><p>Had immediately signed up for cure delivery runs after Tom had left—practically lived on that ship for all but two years punctuated by a few days dry dock here and there. Even then, she'd simply bunked on base. Then when the virus had jumped ship, they'd been deployed again. Searched all over Africa for those seeds until they tracked them to the middle east.</p><p>"Do they even have carrier stores anymore?" she asked out loud as she sat in a chair close to his bed, searching the net for the nearest functioning one while the kids played some kind of game on their consoles.</p><p>Tom made a confused expression, "Of course. They don't sell anything new but, they have stuff from before and second-hand phones," he paused and then asked, "you didn't get a cell again? After Asia?"</p><p>Sasha gave him a look, "Who was I gonna call?" trying to keep her tone light. Tom tucked his chin against his chest, didn't like the shame that came over him. "I never stopped. I didn't request my IDs to access the bank program. I'm not even sure I have an account anymore, they probably declared me dead," she explained nonchalantly—like it were obvious.</p><p>He swallowed uncomfortably, reminded once again of everything she'd lost. Everyone. Everyone she loved and cared about had died, and he'd gone AWOL. The fact that she still didn't have the basics, and it had been two years now since the cure was delivered was like a bucket of ice. He was embarrassed that he'd been so caught up in his own shit that he'd bolted while the rest of them pushed on. They'd all lost things, all harbored guilt—he needed to remember that his pain wasn't any more special than theirs in that regard.</p><p>"You can use my card for whatever you need, it should still be active. I put my wallet and the kid's IDs in a box—Ash can show you."</p><p>"I wonder what it's like out there," she said.</p><p>The country had been on shaky ground anyway after Shaw, barely back to some semblance of order after the pandemic. President Oliver had done an excellent job of rebuilding trust, but just as they'd been finding their feet, the Red Rust had reared its ugly head, and the world faced chaos again. People were hungry and desperate. Hungry and desperate people did terrible things. The government was doing everything it could to supply rations in exchange for continued order and prosperity—but it was a ticking time bomb.</p><p>"I'm glad you brought that up. I don't want you to leave without taking someone with you," he warned.</p><p>"Way ahead of you," she deflected easily, a wry smile playing at her lips. "The kids will stay here, and I have a couple Marines who volunteered to provide an escort off base." He gave her a small nod that let her know her solution was at least satisfactory to him, though the control freak in him still didn't like the fact that he wouldn't be there. He was bed-ridden for two weeks while the plate settled before he'd be allowed to begin physical therapy.</p><p>"Now we just need to figure out how I'm turning your service on with no ID and you confined to this bed," she said, raising her eyebrow at him. He pondered for a moment. Hadn't thought that far, of course, when he'd hinted he wanted it done. "Maybe Oliver can pull some strings?"</p><p>"I'll give it a try—I think I can fast-track my military ID, but everything else will take a while. If I was listed presumed dead, they'll have to give me a new social. I asked Michener not to update my file when I checked in," she paused as she typed something, "oh and I already spoke with your coordinator, they got you and the kids signed up for ration cards again." Distracted by what she was doing.</p><p>"We'll figure it out," he assured her. "So you haven't been home?"</p><p>She paused and looked up. She'd considered it when Mike and she had taken leave to look for him, but she hadn't felt ready. Every time she thought of it—it made it too real. The magnitude of her losses—the life she'd crafted before it had all gone to shit. She looked down dismissively and continued typing.</p><p>"No, didn't have time." A lie. Tom narrowed his eyes at her slightly but didn't push. They had company, and this wasn't the right time to call her out on it.</p><p>"I'm sorry," he offered. Sasha merely shrugged slightly in response, deflecting his concern. "It's probably gone by now anyway, looted, flooded—who knows," she added and he frowned again. They had satellites. If she really wanted to know, she was within her right to request a feed. Instead, Tom recognized it for what it was, fear. She was scared to go back, scared to know.</p><p>"I seem to remember someone agreeing to take me there," he began his expression and tone light. Sasha tried but couldn't hide the smirk on her lips, the image of him standing on his ship as the sun cast its last glow over them still burning fresh in her mind. Their stolen moments when she'd fallen in love again, possibly harder than she had the first time.</p><p>"And I seem to remember you flirting with me," she countered.</p><p>"If I recall, it worked."</p><p>"Guys—ew," Ashley said, not bothering to look up from her console.</p><p>Sasha bit her lip, and Tom continued baiting her handsomely with his eyes—that boyish twinkle directed her way as he grinned and turned his head sideways.</p><p>"Stop being cute," she told him as she tried to focus on what she was doing instead, "you're damaging Ashley."</p><p>"Thank you!" Ashely agreed, and he chuckled softly. Sasha winked at him over the laptop and fired off the email she'd composed to President Oliver's assistant.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"Here it is," Ashely said, coming out of the bedroom into the common area with the box. She put it down on the desk between them.</p><p>"Thanks," Sasha answered, wasting no time as she dug into its contents. It was all there, just as he'd said. Buried in between family photos of the kids, Darien. His parents and siblings at family get-togethers—the one solitary picture of her, of them. Passports, birth certificates, his wallet. Driver's license, credit cards, bank cards. She swallowed. It was all so normal. So domestic, and she felt entirely like an imposter in that moment. Reminded so fully that he'd live an entire life without her. That while the years melted away in his presence, and it felt like just yesterday that they'd broken up, it had in fact been fifteen years since they'd parted ways.</p><p>Ashley was chewing her lip nervously. It's wasn't that Sasha was bad or had done anything wrong at all. It was that she could see how different her Dad was with her compared to Cali. How he treated her like he used to treat her Mom—and that scared her. Terrified her in fact.</p><p>"Why did you and my Dad break up before?" It was hesitant and entirely out of left field.</p><p>Sasha closed the box after getting what she needed and inhaled slightly, preparing to have this conversation. Things were going as well as they could with Ashley—better than she'd hoped actually. But she wasn't blind, and she could sense the trepidation and uncertainty. She wanted to prevent it from getting out of control and turning into resentment.</p><p>"We were young… <em>I</em> was young," she corrected. "I didn't want the same things in life as your Dad did at the time."</p><p>"But did you not love him?" she fired back quickly.</p><p>Sasha narrowed her eyes slightly before deciding the truth would likely be best. "I loved him very much. But sometimes that's why you need to let people go. If you don't want the same future as them, it's selfish to expect them to change if you aren't willing to compromise." Ashley frowned slightly as she tried to make sense of what that meant. Sasha cleared her throat slightly, deciding to be brave. "Listen, I uh…" she paused, this was uncomfortable for her, "I'm not trying to replace your Mom, <em>in any way</em>. I need you to know that. I hope that maybe one day, we can be friends. And if you ever need my help, I am more than happy to do what I can for you or your brother—regardless of what's going on with your Dad," she offered sincerely.</p><p>Ashley looked at the floor, becoming frustrated by the fact that she could feel herself wanting to cry. She did every time she thought about her Dad moving on from her Mom. About the idea that he might marry someone else again. How he never talked about her and clammed up whenever she came up. It seemed like all he wanted to do was forget, and it seemed like Sasha might really have the ability to make that so.</p><p>"I don't want him to forget her," she mumbled, still looking at the floor.</p><p>Sasha's heart broke for the girl, and she furrowed her eyebrows bending slightly so she could make eye contact with her. "Hey," she whispered. "He will <em>never </em>forget about your Mom.<em> Ever.</em> He tells me every day how proud he is of you and how much you remind him of her." Ashely peered up, biting her lower lip to stop the impending tears from falling.</p><p>"Well then why doesn't he talk about her to me or Sam? He acts like she didn't exist." There was bitterness and resentment in her tone. Sasha sighed and straightened. Deciding it was best if they sat down so she guided her to the sofa.</p><p>"Because it's difficult. He feels like he let you down by not being there and choosing to finish his mission. He thinks if he'd done things differently, she might not have died," she answered honestly.</p><p>"Well, could he?" Ash shot back, the tears finally winning their battle to break free.</p><p>"No Ash, he couldn't," Sasha answered firmly shaking her head. Ashely sniffed, the anger and bitterness pouring out. "What do you think would have happened if he'd come home and joined you guys?" Sasha prompted softly.</p><p>Ashely hiccuped slightly. "He would have kept us safe," she answered stubbornly.</p><p>"He would have tried. But then there would be no cure. So, you guys would've had to hide forever, and hope that an accident didn't happen and that no one got sick—"</p><p>"But if we did, we all would have died," Ashely finished for her. She knew this. Grandpa had told her, Kelly had told her, Debbie, Kara… countless people had told her this, but she still couldn't help thinking <em>what if</em>. Sasha licked her lips and nodded.</p><p>"That's right. Your dad thinks about <em>what if</em> more than he should," Sasha told her. "Because in the end, none of you did anything wrong. What happened to you, and to all of us was a terrible thing. And no-one had any control over it—that's why it's so hard. Sasha let her words settle and sink in.</p><p>Ashley's crying calmed down, and she got control of herself again. "I know," she finally muttered, looking over to where Sasha was sitting patiently.</p><p>She smiled at the girl softly. "I think you should talk to him. Maybe if you guys talked about happier memories with your Mom, it might help?" she suggested quietly.</p><p>Ashley nodded. "Can you maybe not tell him about this?" it was quiet and hesitant. Sasha pondered it for a moment, it felt important—something that Tom needed to know, but at the same time, she didn't want to make Ashely feel like she couldn't confide in her.</p><p>"It can be our little secret," she finally decided on, "but, I think it would be good if you told him yourself. When you're ready, of course," she encouraged again. Ashely nodded softly at her and wiped her face.</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>"Anytime."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The president had come through. A federal order to belay the anti-fraud identification mandates set forth by his administration in their case meant she'd been able to set the Chandler's up with a plan again and add a line for herself. It was crazy how strange it felt to have something as simple as a phone again. She'd signed into the cloud and forgotten that it would all come back—honestly didn't know if she wanted it to. If she wanted the pictures, the last text messages she'd sent, the wallpaper she'd had of their wedding day…</p><p>"You okay?" he asked quietly. He'd been watching her for the past three minutes, and she hadn't noticed. She was just staring at the screen doing nothing, a stoic expression on her face. Her eyes snapped up to his, and he hadn't missed the way she jumped slightly. She couldn't do it. She hit cancel on the backup restore, inhaled a little too sharply.</p><p>"Yeah," she deflected, going through the menus to set the phone up as new. Tom pursed his lips slightly—the kids were gone, it was late, she was holding back again. She'd always been like this—guarded with her thoughts, her emotions. The wall she'd always kept up to protect herself, the same wall he'd driven himself mad trying to break in the past. The one he was determined to get behind for good this time, no matter how long it took.</p><p>"It takes a while, but you get used to it again," he offered quietly. Her eyes softened, letting her defenses down a little; somehow, he always knew. Knew what she wasn't saying.</p><p>"You gonna ask me for my number?" she joked, fixing him with a flirtatious gaze.</p><p>Tom smirked, "You gonna admit you've already memorized mine?"</p><p>She bit her lip and let out a soft laugh, opening the messaging app and sending him a text. <em>Touché</em></p><p>He felt his phone vibrate, and he laughed when he read it. Quickly adding her to his contact list as Sasha ICE, not missing that she'd picked a 757 area code. <em>Does this mean you're officially my girlfriend?"</em> he typed.</p><p>Sasha laughed and shook her head, "Did you just ask me to be your girlfriend in a text message?" her tone was light, enjoying the simple banter and easy flirtation they'd always shared. How much of a dork he could be—and still was. She was struck suddenly by how little he'd changed at his core. He was still the same loveable man with a heart of gold that she'd fallen for before, just more baggage. The baggage they all shared.</p><p>"Maybe?"</p><p>Sasha pulled her feet down from the bed and got out of the chair, coming instead to sit next to him. Tom leaned back, maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, gaze tender as he rested a hand on her upper thigh.</p><p>"Okay," she agreed quietly. The lopsided smile grew wider, and she found herself returning it. Brought her hands up to smooth nimble fingers over the line of his brows before trailing them down the sides of his face. "You're so handsome when you smile," she told him simply. His eyes gleamed, and he leaned up and captured her mouth, pulling her toward him.</p><p>"And you're beautiful all the damn time," he told her quietly against her lips.</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><strong>December 25th, 2015</strong>—<strong>St. Louis, Missouri, </strong><strong>1500 Hours</strong></p><p>"You sure you're okay?" she was hovering in the doorway, her hair and make-up done, wearing a robe watching as he grimaced while tying his shoes. She wasn't trying to make him feel decrepit, but it had only been two and a half weeks since he'd started physical therapy. He'd outright refused a wheelchair—also, the walker. Requested crutches instead, he already felt old, didn't need to look it too. He was meant to keep weight off it as much as possible, but he was also encouraged to move. His recovery would go faster if he kept active and didn't let the muscle atrophy too much. In another two weeks, he'd start hydrotherapy and slowly introduce weight back onto it.</p><p>"Sasha," he warned; his tone a little more frustrated than he'd intended. He knew it was because she cared; he just hated feeling so useless. She threw her hands up, signaling she was dropping the subject, and he went back to fixing his shoe—annoyed with himself for snapping at her like that. "I'm sorry," he mumbled quickly, and she nodded to let him know they were okay.</p><p>She picked at her nails a little, touching the simple French polish she'd gone with during the manicure she'd taken Ashely to, it all felt so surreal still. It had been a month and two days since they'd landed in San Diego. Burk had flown out as soon as he'd escorted the seeds to their destination, joined her in keeping Danny company until the James docked in Mayport, and Kara had arrived. They'd celebrated both Tom and Ashley's birthdays as best they could in the hospital. The second Tom was able to leave his bed, he'd requested his care to be transferred to Missouri. Ashely had contacted some of her old friends, he wanted the kids to have some familiarity and go back to their old school in January. They'd barely been in the rental a week, Ashely's suggestion that Sasha continue to live with them. Made mostly because she liked seeing her dad happier when she was around, and if she had to admit it, she actually liked Sasha. President Oliver was hosting Christmas for the crew and family members of the James—his way of saying thank you for their dedication and service.</p><p>It felt like something he should do. Something he owed the family members of the fallen that would attend. It was his duty as their leader to show up and be there, regardless of how much pain he might be in by the end of the night.</p><p>"I finally got access to my bank account," Sasha stated nonchalantly. Tom paused and glanced up at her, she was looking at him softly. "Somehow, my pay was backdated." He took his hands away from his feet and sat up slowly, eyes locked with hers. "Only it's been deposited regularly since August of 2014—the first. Specifically." An eyebrow rose slightly. His gaze faltered, looking her up and down quickly because she'd figured him out. "And when I checked the housing registry, my address was already listed as '<em>surviving confirmed'</em> …any idea how that might have happened?" she whispered—already knowing the answer. Tom dropped his eyes, pondering a spot on the carpet.</p><p>One of his signature initiatives upon accepting the position of CNO had been taking care of their forces. In fact, it was one of the few lasting things he was proud of. He'd developed a program with Michener to backdate pay effective immediately for all confirmed vital enlisted. To automatically link it to the housing registry to protect their homes federally from re-assignment or occupation. To trump the squatter's rights and ease the passage of reclaiming everything they were owed.</p><p>"I updated your file right before I resigned. I already figured out you Michener not to do it because I'd looked for you, before Hong Kong. Though, I would have put two and two together sooner had I known your last name changed to Cooper," he admitted quietly. Almost all of her missions were redacted or purged. He making eye contact with her again and she felt her throat tightening as a ball of emotion swept over her, tiptoeing tantalizingly between comfort and pain.</p><p>Comfort, because it affirmed her belief that he'd fallen just as deeply in love with her again as she had him during Asia. That he'd actually thought of her, looked for confirmation that she might be alive before Hong Kong. Remembered and cared enough to try. Comfort, because it was a reminder of just how loyal and thoughtful he could be. Pain, because he'd sat there and actively chosen to leave her behind, had taken steps to make sure in his mind she'd be taken care of when she re-started her life—without him. Pain, because she wished he'd just come to her before Slattery had desperately informed her Tom was leaving the ship. Asked if she could get him to change his mind. Pain because the past couldn't be changed—and they'd wasted yet more of their time being stubborn apart.</p><p>She blinked a few times to stop the moisture in her eyes from falling, had spent far too much time on her make-up to ruin it with tears. He was watching her reaction curiously, trying to figure out her mood.</p><p>"Are you upset with me?" he finally asked. She looked clouded in thought, somewhat melancholy, a little pained, but also touched. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her heart clenched over his expression—he looked lost and a little sad. She shook her head, letting her arms fall to her sides from where they'd been crossed.</p><p>"No, Tom. <em>I just love you</em>," she uttered sincerely before turning to change into her dress.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dinner had been pleasant, provisions were scarce, but Oliver pulled out all the stops. Left three tables fully set, name cards, and all for the fallen. It was a beautiful gesture, poignant yet mournful at once. He'd been sat at the President's table, of course, along with his kids, Slattery, Green, Miller, Cameron and Carlton Burk, Meylan, Jeter, Garnett, and some other department heads. In-fact his only complaint was that Sasha hadn't been seated there too. She was better at schmoozing than him anyway, and she deserved to be there just as much as any of them—though he understood. She played in the shadows, while they sat in their uniforms playing politics. They were the face of the war, the latest heroes. The one's the press would write about.</p><p>He couldn't take his eyes off her. She far outshone anyone in the room, not that he was looking to compare, but it was hard not to notice. Her lithe, athletic figure hugged perfectly by the emerald silk slip dress she'd chosen. The scooping neckline exposing just enough to make his mouth water, but still appropriate for this kind of affair. He caught her eye at the other table; gave her a look that made her blush slightly as she pretended to listen to the idle chatter around her. Took a sip from her champagne while staring right at him.</p><p>"You need me to switch seats?" Mike muttered to him under his breath, leaning over to make sure only Tom could hear him.</p><p>Tom had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed that he'd been caught before he covered it quickly. A wry smirk settling itself across his face. "Well, she's certainly better looking," he replied easily, and Mike laughed brashly.</p><p>"No doubt about it."</p><p>The sound of his laugh traveled, which piqued her interest. Sasha took her glass away from her lips slightly, looking between them while shooting them a questioning expression—now noticing that they were both looking directly at her, obviously enjoying whatever conversation they were in. Azima noticed her distraction and followed her gaze to the two men and then back to Sasha. A smile broke out on her face.</p><p>"So, you and the Captain finally did it then?" she asked knowingly. Sasha's head turned a little too sharply, not quite sure what, '<em>Did it'</em> referred to, but had an idea. Azima grinned at her, drinking from her glass.</p><p>"Ship's scuttlebutt puts it on the way back from Asia," Kara piped up easily, which caused the color to drain from her face slightly. Wolf smirked and dropped his head.</p><p>"Interesting," Azima replied, turning her head as she considered her friend. Sasha rose her eyebrows and shook her head to indicate that she was not interested in joining the conversation. Used her glass as a reason to occupy her lips. It's not that they were trying to hide it at this point. And it was probably the worst kept secret in the fleet… they had shown up together this evening, but it's not like she wanted to shout it from the rooftops either.</p><p>She'd worked the room effortlessly for most of the night while he hung back with the rest of the injured and maimed as he'd sarcastically labeled them. Green was almost back to normal, the advantages of being twelve years younger and fit as an athlete. Cameron had just started walking with his prosthetics, though he tired quickly. Miller was on crutches, showing off his war wound to any woman that would listen. They'd had no shortage of visitors and well-wishers—both crew and family alike, and now? They and Russ were enjoying some fine Cuban cigars courtesy of Mike in front of the fireplace by the bar.</p><p>Ashely had hung with Kathleen and Diaz, and Sam had been following Green and Burk around all night. Something they'd good-naturedly put up with. He'd have to remember to thank them both later for that. A flash of green caught his eye, and he turned his head in her direction just in time to watch her glide over to them. She smiled as she made eye contact with him. Mike and Russ stood as she approached, he would have too if he could, but he settled for straightening up along with Cameron. It was the respectful thing to do.</p><p>"Hope you saved one for me," she joked when she reached them, coming over to stand just behind the sofa where Tom sat. He canted his head up so he could still see her, though it was hard.</p><p>"Always," Mike confirmed, about to pull another from the inner pocket of his jacket.</p><p>"Hold that thought," she told him, turning her attention back to focus on Tom, leaning down over him slightly so he could see her better. "I'm gonna go take Sam up; Green said he's wiped—fell asleep in a chair." She said quietly, humor in her voice. She squeezed his shoulder gently to cut his thanks off. She could see how much he appreciated it—didn't need to hear it again. "I'll take you up on that when I get back," she said to Mike as she wordlessly handed her empty glass to Tom, "and another glass," she said, a twinkle in her eye. She was buzzed and frankly, enjoying it.</p><p>"Yes Ma'am," Tom responded, trying to suppress his smirk but ultimately failing.</p><p>Mike settled again, sitting down in the armchair next to Tom. Didn't know if it was the alcohol or the fact it was Christmas, but he could feel himself getting emotional. He glanced at Russ and Cameron to make sure they were occupied with their own conversation before clearing his throat. "She's a good woman," he stated.</p><p>Tom's face grew more serious as he looked up and pondered his friend. He'd never really noticed before, but it was clear he'd come to really care about her since he'd been gone—more than he'd realized. "She is," he agreed, knowing somehow that this conversation was going somewhere heavier than he likely wanted to be.</p><p>"Reminds me of Hannah, in a way," Mike continued. His speech a little stunted as he said the words, took a puff from his cigar to cover it. Tom's expression changed into one of understanding and empathy, and he tightened his lips, looking down in respect of his pain.</p><p>"I uh, I never thanked you—for being there for her after I left," he started, but Mike cut him off with an expression and a quirk of his head.</p><p>"I didn't do it for you." Tom raised his head slightly, appropriately humbled by the simple statement. "You know, friendship aside—you pull a stunt like that again—we're gonna have a problem," he told him honestly. Rarely did he talk down to Tom. <em>Rarely</em>. He loved the guy, like a brother. He was family to him. They all were, but he loved her like a daughter, and Tom could be an insensitive jerk when he wanted to. Thought about it every day, how lucky he was to have his kids still, the knowledge of what had happened to his wife, the closure, and ability to move on. And to top it off, the love of his life had somehow survived, and he'd still been stupid enough to walk away. Seemed that sometimes he was too focused on what he'd lost, rather than what he still had.</p><p>"Duly noted," Tom said carefully, a slow nod of his head confirming his full understanding of what Mike was trying to say.</p><p>Mike nodded back once sharply. "Good. I'm happy for you guys. She seems happy. You do too. Don't screw it up," he said, lightening the tone significantly. He put the cigar in his mouth and grabbed the glass. "Why don't I get that," he mumbled, getting up to replenish her drink, so his friend didn't have to fumble on crutches to do it. Tom watched him go, the conversation ringing in his head as he went.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The party was winding down, it was well past 0-one hundred and a handful of people remained scattered about the place. Some dancing in the ballroom, others admiring the fresh snow over the gardens. A few of them lounging in the cigar room—making the best of the open bar. Green and Kara were draped over each other in an armchair. Miller and both Burks' were chasing the world's worst hangover. Mike and Andrea absorbed in what looked to be a riveting conversation. And he and Sasha at opposite ends of the sofa, his leg propped up on a chair she'd pulled over. She was drunk, and he'd been maintaining a warm inhibition for the night. He'd stopped taking heavy-duty painkillers a week ago—made himself go cold turkey before he could become dependent on them. Last thing he needed was to add substance abuse to the list of problems he was facing on the personal front.</p><p>"Have I told you how beautiful you are?" he asked huskily suddenly as she sipped more wine. Sasha snorted slightly, the liquid splashing a little on her face. Tom smirked, having effectively flustered her, the reaction he'd wanted.</p><p>"Uh, a few times?"</p><p>"I'm pretty sure the Chief of Staff thinks so too," he added—tone light.</p><p>She shook her head and laughed. "So you saw that?"</p><p>"How could I not?"</p><p>She rose an eyebrow at him suggestively. "Jealous?"</p><p>Tom smiled and shook his head. "Not a chance."</p><p>She smirked at him knowingly, "I think he got the message when <em>Admiral </em>Chandler hobbled over and put his hand on my back," Sasha teased. His mouth quirked, and he shrugged slightly at the way she'd referenced the surprise promotion he'd been given after dinner—much to his chagrin.</p><p>"It's kinda hot when you say it like that," he deadpanned, knowing precisely what it would do to her. Sasha pouted slightly, turning her head to the side.</p><p>"Tom," she warned, she'd give nothing more than to jump his bones right now, but with his leg, it was simply not an option. He looked her up and down slowly, heat in his gaze very purposefully before he answered.</p><p>"You never seemed to mind my hands before," his voice was deep, it reverberated through her body. Her mouth went dry as his comment shot right to her core. Specific memories of his hot breath in her ear, hand down the front of her fatigues as he held her pinned against a wall, his chest at her back, telling her to let go as he pushed her to climax arose. When they'd stolen moments in supply closets every chance they got, so close to being caught. He drove her fucking wild. She put her glass down and crawled over to him, captured his lips hungrily as he all but welcomed her into his lap.</p><p>"Oh my god!" Miller slurred loudly, standing up and pointing excitedly in their direction, causing the entire room to pause and pay attention. Tom reluctantly pulled away from her, moving his head to the side to frown directly at Miller, who sheepishly raised his hand. "So sorry, Admiral," he bowed, albeit wobbly and allowed Carlton to pull him back into his seat. Saw him hit the back of his head probably telling him how stupid that was. </p><p>Tom shook his head bemused before taking a second to glance around at the smiling and laughing faces of those left in the room. Turned his attention back to Sasha.</p><p>"I think that's our cue," she whispered, still staring hungrily at his lips.</p><p>"I would agree," he confirmed. Helping her right herself gently before grabbing his crutches.</p>
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